


The Winter Comes

by katamanda, sailtheplains



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Fatality, Flawless victory, Gen, Hydra looks like the Mouth of Sauron, Journey game outfit, M/M, dark of the frost, get over here!, guilty pleasure, night is dark and full of terrors, russian reverse plot points, winter is coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-04 13:57:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1781542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katamanda/pseuds/katamanda, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailtheplains/pseuds/sailtheplains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Nine Countries of the Allfather, King Odin--Frost Giants gather in the north, cementing their strength with the unholy one known as Hydra. Laufey, King of the Frost Giants, has two stolen relics under his control, the Winter Soldier and Prince Loki, younger Prince of Asgard, son of the Allfather King--stolen from Odin as a baby. These two bastard brothers, working for ends they can't see or understand, are about to be challenged in the beliefs they have been grandfathered into their whole lives (or at least the ones they remember).</p><p>Captain Steven Rogers from the country of Midgard--has been found.</p><p> </p><p>Katamanda came up with the idea, inspired by this awesome piece of fanart. If anyone knows the artist--would love to give them a shoutout: http://i.imgur.com/zmwGdfa.jpg</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Princes of Winter

He dreamt of the sweet scent of hay and golden hair that outshone it in the warm summer light. He dreamed of blue eyes made huge in a too thin face and sharp elbows digging affectionately into his ribs. He dreamed of laughter, light and melodious, driving the cold away. There's a halo around that blond head from the sun.

But in the end the cold is never far away and all dreams must end.

"Wake."

"Rise."

"Warrior of the Ice, Winter Soldier, obey your master's call. Wake, rise!"

Limbs responded sluggishly and then with greater strength. There was a great cracking as claws dug into ice and shattered the prison which contained him. The Winter Soldier rose, armour scraping against the remnants of his frozen coffin, the claws of the demon arm opening and closing. Streaks of pale blue ran through the dark of it, liquid cold. He raised his head and sniffed through the wrought black iron muzzle on his face; magic was thick in the air.

"Halt." A hand extended towards him from a robed figure, an emblem grasped between withered fingers. The skull with it's tendrils extended, Hail Hydra. The one true god.

The Soldier's advance halted before it began.

"Good. It has been ten years since we last called upon you, Soldier, now you will serve us once more."

He knew without being asked what to do, kneeling upon the hard stone floor.

It pleased the hooded man to see his obedience still strongly in place. The Soldiers eyes closed, his head fell back as words of power seeped around him, the frozen air carrying magic to his veins to reinforce anything that may have been lost in his decade-long sleep.

Then through it... barely... his ears could hear the whispering, excited, awed. A younger member of the Hydra cult to another, "It doesn't matter that they found the Captain, look at our Soldier! He will destroy him."

The Captain, The Captain... he wondered what that meant in the brief seconds before the magic purged his mind clear. It felt like he should know.

Then he knew nothing at all.

 

 

 

 

 

"Captain." Natasha pushed her horse up the crest of the hill to where Steven Rogers, warrior of Midgard, sat astride his given destrier. It was a huge pale grey, a horse a hero should ride. Captain Rogers was considered a hero, a legendary one at that. A frail but pure-hearted peasant boy, infused with white magic as the last act of the ancient mage Erskine who would go one to destroy the Red Skull demon who had plagued the land nigh on a century before. "Out here again?"

The power had rebuilt him into a virtual demi-God, speed and strength beyond that of mortal men, resistance to spells, quick healing and perhaps even immortality -- if his sleep within the ice, unchanging, was anything to go by.

He turned, big sky blue eyes swept over the plains, the cliffs and then around--to Natasha. "I can't seem to shake the strangeness, I suppose. Being out like this again." He touched the tip of his bow, strapped across his broad shoulders. It was solid mythril, a perfect weapon created by the alchemist, Howard Stark. His silver shield glinted over the quiver of glass arrows. Stark was dead now--as was everyone else he knew. Except Lady Carter, eventually married and moved on--of course. He was glad she had. He had been gone seventy years...

His fingers slid down the bow to the matching war axes at his hips. He traced familiar paths down warm metal. "What brings you out here, Natasha?"

 "Our Commander has asked your assistance with an investigation I'm to take part in." She watched him, "You're still having trouble adjusting, aren't you?"

He nodded. "Ah, I suppose I am." He looked at her. "What is this investigation?"

"A village was attacked two days ride from here. No survivors." she informed him, "There is ice. Ice that isn't melting."

Steve blinked and looked at her. "Ice--that doesn't melt. What--magic, then?"

"It would seem that way if the reports are accurate." Natasha eyed him, intrigued as she had been from the first moment they had been put to work together. It wasn't every day you met a real live legend. Even in her old Moscova they had heard the stories of the Captain and his men.

"Well, lead the way."

"Yes, sir, Captain," she said lazily, wheeling her horse about and taking them down the hill. "We'll be taking a small specialised team. The local guard who were sent out never returned."

"Do you know the folks on this team?" He asked, walking his horse alongside hers. The sunshine was hot on the back of his neck but the rest of him got a chill. His fingers traced the familiar grooves of his axes, touching the rim of the shield. The edge was smooth as glass....

Like when they'd found him, encased in ice deep in the Faroth Mountains. His first memory was opening his eyes to dimness. He was still half-frozen, passing out again. And then waking again to warmth. Smooth as glass.

"Some," she replied, her eyes tracking the paths of Steve's fingers, "They'e quite a collection of mavericks, Fury's specialty is collecting oddities." A grin emerged on her face, carefully measured. "Clint Barton is an expert archer, I've worked with him many times and Lord Tony Stark is a genius, his father was a self-made noble. The man is a genius in the forge and with magic."

"Yeah, the locals call him Iron Man--even though he's gone into steel now--and Mythril." Clint Barton seemed to come out of nowhere, riding damn near silent next to them.

Steve did a double-table. "Barton."

"And then, of course, Banner--a battle mage in service to the court--afflicted by a rogue spell. But a good man and a fierce fighter. And then King Odin's son, Thor--gifted war hammer user, and powerful in thunder magic."

"And then you, Captain." Natasha flashed a smile at Barton, welcoming and appreciative of his stealthy approach. "It will be an impressive show of force."

"No kill like overkill," Barton told her. He was wearing riding leathers, reinforced with Asgardian steel. His bow was a thing of art, black obsidian and crystal--enchanted Prince Wood from the Legacy Forest. Barton had come from Aquel--a lone village of rangers who protected and watched over the Legacy Forest. It was sacred, enchanted and one of the few places in the realm to find the Family Trees. The Grandfather, the Grandmother, The Father, The Mother, The Prince and the Princess--rare trees, imbued with magical properties. His fingers skimmed over it. "Lord Stark is going to meet us there with Banner and Prince Thor."

Natasha nodded, brushing a stray lock of vibrant red hair from her face. "I'm interested to see what you think of him Captain, I believe you knew his father. Stark can be a lot to take in."

"His father was lot to take in--I can only imagine what his son is like." He smiled.

 

 

Far to the north in the Unmelting Mountains, Loki pushed his black hair from his face. He crossed his arms, studying the map on the wall. The Allfather's lands stretched out like a long arm, engulfing the Caratine River, hovering over the Nine Realms of the kingdom.

Laufy had fed him the stories since he was a boy. The Allfather came with magic and brutality, to fight the Frost Giants. Laufy had sacked the capital, Asgard, and an uneasy truce had been called ever since.

Loki absorbed these stories like a sponge, and let it fuel the hate for the Allfather King and his people. It was easier, after all, to turn the hate on someone else--as he himself was always regarded with suspicion. He had always been an odd one. His skin was blue, of course, like the other Frost Giants---but he was a runt, small and his skin had a habit of changing colors and texture when he touched the flesh of others. At first, it was spontaneous, now he could control it. So he stayed looking like a human for the most part, as if in defiance.

He marked the map with the Soldier's latest progress. They had worked together before--often, in fact. Actually, the Winter Soldier was the closest thing Loki had to a companion. He hated watching the process of the unfreezing and he knew how disorienting it must be for the Soldier--he pitied him in that---but he also looked forward to it. His unfreezing typically meant that Loki would be assigned to work with him while he was out.

Except now. He paced in front of the map, hated being left behind, waiting for the Soldier to return for the night. He didn't remember actually meeting the Soldier. He had always been aware of him. A lurking shadow when he was free, and kept guarded in an isolated chamber the rest of the time. Loki had snuck in on more than one occasion as a child, curious about this strange Soldier that occasionally appeared to do his father's bidding. The Soldier had taken him on his first missions outside of Jotunheim. He never said anything about Loki being so small compared to the other giants.

 

 

The Soldiers presence was announced in a blast of icy wind, the balcony doors opening before him. He rarely bothered to make his entrance through the main gates, to go through the questioning of guards. The last time, twenty years ago, he had killed four of them in a fit of violence spurred on by their cruel taunting of the 'ice puppet' as they called him.

It was better he take the more direct route for all.

Hydra raised him from his icy slumber and delivered him to Laufey's door, their cold slave. He hunted quickly, efficiently, almost too much so. It was difficult as idleness had a tendency to compromise the Soldier's prowess, he had to be kept focused and working. The Mages of Hydra were confident in their spells though and eschewed this at length to the Winter King, there was nothing to fear. But it was still given to Prince Loki to deal with the Soldier personally, the go-between for master and weapon. The weapon might say he preferred this, as much as he knew Loki's finger was always gentler on the trigger.

"It is done." he spoke calmly, kneeling before the young prince. "Destruction was complete."

Loki looked up at his entrance. "Stand, Winter Soldier. You've done well. Are you hungry?"

After a moment the directive was followed, the Soldier rose heavily to his feet. His armour was light, the same black steel and iron as the mask that covered his face when they unleashed him into the world. "I would benefit from sustenance."

"Come, before those fools find out you're back." Loki turned. His green robes were thick and loose--good for fighting, good for keeping the cold away. He never...seemed to take to the cold like the other Frost Giants. But he was light on his feet, master of small weapons and magic. Laufey had told him time and again--Loki may be a runt...but he would still be a force to be dealt with.

Loki led the Soldier upstairs. He was accustomed to the Soldier's silence--it was as normal as breathing. Sometimes, he wanted to ask him if he ever remembered anything about Before. King Laufey had always told him that the young human had volunteered, sacrificing himself for the greatness of the god, Hydra. He never appeared to recall anything about his human life before that.

Loki opened his own chambers, shutting the door behind the Soldier and waved towards the fireplace. "Eat, have a bath, Winter. Tell me about the village."

"Yes, your highness." The Soldier followed, hand half-raising to his face and then falling.

Loki sighed softly. "Go ahead--remove it. You'll have to to eat." He smiled a little. "Relax--remember, it's me, Loki. Not one of the Court."

Seeing the Soldier's human face was one reason Loki always wore a human flesh. The Soldier did not judge him, did not mock or disdain him. He could have been one of their species. Loki was the dwarfen Giant and many amusing names had been thought up before Loki was big enough to protect himself from them. His father, Laufey, seemed mostly indifferent to Loki's predicament. The boy was useless fighting alongside the Giants. Though his magical ability far outstretched theirs. Still, it hardly mattered. Loki was taught to read and he seemed to absorb magic and knowledge on his own. Laufey had bigger things to deal with. Literally and figuratively.

The Soldier nodded and did so. Warmth. He moved towards it at once. It made little sense as much as he gave it thought for the two of them, both children of cold, to desire that warmth. The fire broke something in him every time and soothed the killer within him. The Soldier knelt and began to speak. "Thirty-five, sixteen men, ten women, nine children. None were warriors, they fell quickly." He leaned with his right side pressed closest, the more human side. "I stayed a day, a contingent of soldiers came, I killed them as well."

"They will have begun to notice the unmelting ice--soon will suspect my father's involvement. Luring the Captain into the open with his contingent of fighters will allow us to take a look at what will be dealt with." Loki wondered idly if Hydra would be pleased. He knew his father, Laufey, would be. Maybe Hydra took his cues from the Winter King, like so many others did. Loki was no heretic--at least not openly--but he had very little energy to waste on belief in gods and mysticism. Especially one like Hydra. Hydra was different from the other Gods that all the Legacy trees were named for. Six Gods whose presence Loki had never felt--and this seventh dark one--that he had seen horrible things from. Best stick to magic--things he knew actually worked.

A servant brought up beef and fruits (another point of disdain, for the other Frost Giants did not eat such things but Loki could not seem to tolerate their foods) and a hot bath was filled for the Soldier.

"Shall I inform the King that the Soldier has returned."

"No--I will tell him myself," Loki said, smiling. "That is why I am the Soldier's handler and not you."

"Of course, Prince," the servant said, shuffling out.

"Eat, Winter," said Loki again. "Have you already been given your next target for Hydra?"

"Hail Hydra," the Soldier recited automatically, "the Dark of the Frost Claims Those Who Look."

Loki looked at him. He shook his head and sighed a little. He pushed the platter of food to the Soldier. "Eat," And then he sat down again, watching.


	2. Sort of Small for a Giant

The order was followed as all orders were, with precision and thoroughness. The Soldier did not stop until every last scrap on the plate was gone. He had an impressive appetite for a human, eating what would easily have counted as two large portions for another mortal man without issue. It was a human gesture to lick his lips afterwards, chasing the taste of meat and fruit that lingered.

Loki merely sat by, watching the Winter Soldier. "How does your arm feel?" he asked.

"Fine," the Soldier answered him, flexing the fingers as he did so. "It doesn't like heat."

It would be a mistake to think of the arm as just an appendage. The ritual that bound the demon arm to the Winter Soldier had made it as much a part of him and he became of it. The arm was capable of possession, incredible strength and speed. It was very durable and if extreme circumstances required it—it could act on its own accord. It was bonded to the Soldier through blood, through frost, through Hydra.

Because the Dark of the Frost Takes Those Who Look.

Without hesitance he then stood to obey the next order and bathe, stripping off his light armour and the thin cloth beneath methodically. He had no sense of shame anymore, clambering into the bath -- gingerly holding the left arm over the side of the tub away from the hot water -- and settling himself down. The heat would not last long.

 

Later, Loki went down to Laufey. The Frost Giant king looked at him, wrinkling his nose. "You always wear that human flesh. I take it the Winter Soldier has returned."

"He has."

"You took your time telling me about it."

"Was there a rush?" Loki asked, looking politely curious.

"He was given to us by Hydra. Stop treating him like he's a human."

It was Loki's turn to wrinkle his nose.

"You don't like that idea, Prince of the Frost Giants? Or is it the same-old story--runt?"

Loki's shoulders barely shifted, tensing.

"Perhaps you feel some kinship because he's your size." The Winter King gave a gravelly chuckle. "I didn't raise you for softness, Loki."

"It is no soft thing," Loki responded smoothly. The lines in his face eased, his posture relaxed, his clever eyes followed the King. "Merely that the Soldier requires food, rest and a bath. It may be difficult for you to remember, Father--but he has a human body and it requires human necessities when he has been out of freezing for more than 96 hours." He raised his eyebrows. "Which he has."

"Shall I put him back in?" said Laufey, scowling in Loki's direction.

"What has Hydra told you to do?" Loki replied, face neutral, blank.

"No concern of yours, Loki."

"That reasoning seems a bit misplaced if I am to be King one day."

Laufey's eyes moved more slowly now, taking in Loki. He snorted, laughing softly. "Indeed. You will have to prove yourself a bit more for any Ice Giants to follow you. Most of them would snap you in half."

Loki's face remained neutral...but his eyes glittered. "I would invite them to try."

"You think you can defeat one of my warriors in lethal combat."

Loki's head just barely tilted. He raised his eyebrows again.

"Always so eager to prove yourself, Loki."

"My childhood days are over, _Father_. And you have no other heirs."

The mirth vanished from the Winter King's eyes. "In the morning, you will take the Soldier back to that village--we have had word that the Captain is on the move. Now, get out, mongrel."

"I do love our family conversations, Father." Loki bowed, the epitome of proper decorum that somehow still came across as mocking. He turned on his heel and walked back upstairs.

 

The next morning, he put on leather tunic. Armored and thick, in green--along with gloves, boots and a polearm. He had an array of daggers in his clothes, strapped to the leather of his thigh. And his magic, of course.

He looked at the Winter Soldier--who stood there silently like a well-trained guard dog, observing. Loki was aware, perhaps, that he might be the only one who saw the Soldier as a potential ally. Not a tool. "Come here, Polerion." He expected the uncertain glance. "I don't like calling you Winter or Soldier. I'm going to call you Polerion from now on. That's the winter star in Jotunheim. It's a better name." When the Soldier approached, Loki helped suit him up, adjusting straps, coupling clasps for the leather armor. He handed the warrior his weapons and checked them for him.

The Soldier was stock still as the prince attended to his armour. Each weapon was carefully slotted into a hundred hidden places and a couple unhidden ones.

"There, everything feel all right?" Loki expected no answer--mostly he spoke to the Soldier just to fill the empty silence. And he did not receive one, just a nod. "All right, now--we head back for the village to await and observe the Captain and his friends." He flipped his glaive into a ice-holster that he secured by causing more ice to grow over it. In a flash, Loki would be able to break the ice to free it. He did not like the cold--but he knew how to use it.

_And when I am King, they will learn that._

 

 

The giants rode gigantic bear-like tusked beasts but for such small men as they horses were kept and ready. Polerion slid onto the back of a solid black destrier, absently contemplating that his master had given him a name, a real name and not a title or a label. It felt... strange, and good.

The drawbridge was lowered and they made their way carefully down the treacherously iced path.

Loki rode a destrier as well--deep smoke-colored. He rode well, having learned from Polerion (by matter of convenience, he had been constantly reminded by his father).

They headed out together. Camping with Polerion was always a quiet affair. The Soldier was always efficient, always quick to get the campsite ready. And they would sit in the silence for the night, looking at the stars. "There is your star, Polerion," he said absently, pointing up at the brightly sparkling blue star.

He raised his head to follow the line of Loki's fingers, blue eyes focusing above the cold black of the muzzled mask. The Soldier gave no acknowledgement if he thought anything at all about the designation yet he continued to watch the path of the star for much of the night.

He sat back against his pack, daggers in easy reach. His ice-reed flute emerged--Loki never played with anyone. He was self-taught--he had only ever played in front of the Soldier--because he never had an opinion on his ability.

The next day, they continued on--riding to Prelain--the decimated village. They approached on foot, leaving the horses at the treeline. They were there to observe--not to engage, unless there was nothing else for it.

On a tall carriage, a dark-haired man was standing. Lord Stark, Loki could guess, judging from the brilliant shade of red the carriage was painted--with the golden forge and hammer that identified his House sigil. The man hopped down, waving to another huge man.

This one was blond, also dressed in red and gold. It took Loki several seconds and then he started. "Polerion--that is Thor, son of Odin, isn't it?" If the Prince himself was out here then there was no doubt, they truly had already begun to suspect Laufey's work.

Polerion moved like a shadow at Loki's side, already familiar with the ground they were covering. He found a perch and sank into the shadow of a rooftop. "Yes," he spoke barely above a hiss of breath.

And there, in blue and silver--the mage, Bruce Banner. They needed only wait another half hour before Rogers arrived--the assassin, Romanov on his left and the archer from the Legacy Forest, Clint Barton.

Quite a show of force. They were taking this rather seriously. Actually, rather more seriously than even Loki expected. They were definitely outnumbered—Loki had his glaive and his magics and the Soldier but….well, it might be a pretty even fight—oh, who was he kidding. Even if he fought the other Prince, left Rogers to Polerion, even handling Stark, Romanov, Barton and Banner….they would be outmatched.

 

"This is indeed magic similar to that which the Frost Giants use," Thor was speaking, his massive arms folded across his chest. "I have seen it before but it is strange that those monsters would come so far away from Jotunheim."

Steve got off his horse, rubbing his chin. "It's almost like they wanted us to see it."

"That's obvious," Natasha said in agreement. "This village is nothing, in the sense of being important target. It's like any other village in the country. No strategic location, no persons of interest, no highly valuable objects or resources."

Thor's eyes darkened, "Indeed, there is no sign of thievery, only slaughter."

Bruce suddenly started a little and murmured, "I can sense someone. We’re being watched." He paused. " One of them feels strange though---almost like you, Thor."

"Where are they, Banner," Natasha lowered her voice. "Try and get a general location."

Across from Banner, Thor looked mildly startled and attempted to hide it. “What? Like me?”

Bruce shrugged and then nodded to a low ridge. " Over there," he said quietly. “Just under the dead grass…”

Steve removed his shield, letting its comforting weight balance him.

 

Polerion stiffened, casting his gaze to his handler, seeking instruction.

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed. It must be the Soldier. He was touched by a god in the same way Thor's father probably was. Perhaps that was what the mage felt…

The Soldier continued to look at Loki, something more urgent in his eyes. Fight or flight, which was his instruction.

"Let us go and speak to them, then," Thor said boldly, taking his hammer from his belt and striding forward.

Natasha grimaced, she would have favored a more subtle approach. Unfortunately Thor was the prince amongst them. "Stark, mind the carriage."

"What! Mind the cart?! Seriously?!"

Loki stood, uncertain now. He didn't have time to consider. Even if they had run, they would have still been seen. And he would not have used his illusions and risked leaving Polerion behind. So instead he forced himself to relax and waited.

Steve crested the low ridge first. He looked at the pair. "Who are you?"

Loki looked over the five. And then he went right against his own orders. "I am Loki," he heard himself say. 

"Loki?" Steve asked, turning to Thor.

Banner started badly. "W-what?!"

Thor's expression was incredulous, "Your name... where do you hail from, Loki?"

The Soldier stood to the side of his master, his pale eyes flickered around the group, flying through combat simulations in his mind, assessing weakness. The redheaded woman was staring at him, her face pale but... he focused on the armoured blonde man more, the man with the shield. The target.

Whatever reaction Loki had expected--it wasn't that. Certainly not recognition. He looked at Polerion and then at Banner. "You know me?"

Banner looked at Thor and then back. "Everyone in the court knows the name Loki--killed by Laufey after he was stolen from Odin."

Loki started. "What...."

"Where are you from?!" Thor demanded of him, "Why are you here? Who are you?"

“And you,” Steve asked, nodding to the Soldier.

Polerion said nothing, waiting. His left arm was partially hidden by his cloak.

"He's the Winter Soldier." It was Natasha who answered, swallowing. "An assassin. A ghost."

"If he's the Winter Soldier, than they must have been sent by Laufey," Bruce said.

"Yes, what of it," Loki challenged. "Prince of the Allfather and me, Prince of the Frost. Sent here for the Captain--word travels fast," his eyes brows raised, shoving away his confusion, focus on the mission. "Word has reached the Winter King of your awakening. Hydra knows you are active again. King Laufey seeks revenge for the Red Skull."

Polerion was tensing, shifting subtly in readiness for an attack. The only thing holding him back was that Loki had not given the word.

"You must return with us!" Thor decided, "If you might possibly be he, you must."

"Be who!" Loki demanded.

"His brother,” said Bruce.

"Oh, very funny." Loki gave them a slow clap. "I am the son and sole heir of Laufey, King of the Frost Giants.”

“Funny, you don’t look much like a Frost Giant.”

Loki turned an ugly glare at Stark.

“What? I got bored watching the carriage—seriously, you don’t look like a Frost Giant.”

“I can if that will make you feel better,” Loki said.

“Actually—you _are_ kinda small for a Frost Giant…” Bruce said thoughtfully. “Are you….uh…dwarf-giant?”

Tony sputtered on a laugh.

Loki felt that twitch—he grit his teeth.

“Uh oh, I think you hit a nerve,” Clint said. He took a step back, pulling a shaft from his quiver.

“So what do they do with little-bitty dwarf giants like you?” Stark went on, seemingly oblivious to Loki’s darkening gaze. “I mean…you can’t ride one of those bears or whatever, right? Hahaha, do you kick your feet at the dinner table.”

Loki did not recall the command to release his glaive—it was just in his hand. He felt Polerion’s attention shift next to him for a few seconds—and then he was back to glaring at Stark. “I am the Prince of Jotunheim—“

“So who makes your clothes?” Tony asked, stroking his beard. “Or I suppose it must be the same Giant who makes his.” He pointed at the Soldier. He chuckled. “You know guys, I never thought about Frost Giant tailors until right now and it is, literally, the funniest mental image I’ve ever had.”

“Tony,” Clint said, fighting a smile.

“This is why they wanted you to wait with the carriage,” Bruce said.

“I am simply curious about our friend here! He’s a prince of giants—but he’s our size! Can you imagine how he’ll look in the Winter King’s throne? He’ll be like a five year old playing King—“

“Tony, shut up. He’s going to attack you if you don’t shut up,” Clint said, taking another step back.

“Hey Loks—you think they’ll design you a special crown—“

Loki forced his skin to change, flashing up deep blue, eyes burning like coal fires. The glaive flared with light and he dashed at him.


	3. Who Was that Masked Man

Loki slashed with the glaive, smashing into that clicking armor.

"Like it?" asked Tony. "It's pretty durable--"

Loki backhanded him across the face. Tony reeled, stumbled, righted himself and then looked at him. "You jerk." His armor hissed with steam and he charged. Red and green, smashing together in the snow

 

Thor lunged forward with his hammer -- and the Soldier wheeled before he'd even closed the distance, sprinting forwards to meet Thor with a clash of weapons, snow flying up around them. Steve launched himself forward, his shield went spinning out at the Soldier. It seemed effortless in how the Soldier _grabbed his shield_ from the air, flipping backwards and then using it to bash Thor away from him. He threw the shield like a discus back at Steve but did not wait to confirm a hit. He jumped on Thor, slamming his left fist into his chest. Ice planted down on the prince's armor, grew like a cancer, like a sarcophagus, over his body.

Polerion twisted his attention, sent ribbons of slashing ice ripping through the air. One hit Stark dead on, the other knocked him aside at the hip. The Soldier advanced like a juggernaut--every deliberate step, until the moment to unleash unrestrained power.

Bruce grabbed into the snow, using it as a rope to try and snatch Loki. The ice prince laughed, dodging. He grabbed two of his daggers, throwing them in lightning strikes. Natasha snaked back behind Loki, pulling out daggers of her own. She used one to deflect what was thrown at Banner and another aimed for Loki's shoulder. Loki dissolved in golden green shimmers. Only to appear behind Natasha, slashing at her. She twisted like a minx, exchanging blows. Loki was used to fighting either opponents much larger than himself (Giants) or Polerion. They had often trained together whenever he was out of freezing. Sharp, shocking bursts of violence and power---combined with his natural agility--he found fighting Natasha a delight.

Steve barreled into the Soldier to get him away from Tony, tackling the leather-clad man himself.

"That one's arm--the Soldier," said Clint. He drew back his bow, dodged back to try and get a clean shot as the two of them went rolling hard across the ground. The Soldier planted his arm into the earth and focused on his opponent, lunging into the battle instantly. Ice exploded over the Captain's shield and melted from the pure magic infused into the metal, a knife aimed for the vulnerable gaps in his armor from the Soldier's human hand.

The knife bit into his arm--he slammed his fist into the Soldier's mask.

Bruce skidded over to Tony, jerking him up. "C'mon--throw those rods down."

Tony looked at Bruce. "Shock and awe."

"Oh shut up, Tony." Bruce raised his hands.

Tony threw down a curious steam-run rod. It extended sharp and tall as Bruce stood. It slashed and buzzed, humming in the air. Bruce shifted, a green ripple seemed to pulse over him and then he slashed down. Fire ignited the air around them--but it was instantly sucked into Tony's tool. It hummed.

"In sight!" Clint called and let his arrow loose.

The Soldier growled, head snapping to the side, the fastenings of the mask loosened. He rose up against the Captain, hand grabbing for his throat -- and then suddenly bellowed in pain as the arrow dug into his arm.

And then--"AH!" Loki cried out--Bruce's fire, intensified, redirected by Tony's tools. The arching white flame smashed into Loki, shooting him over the grass.

Steve pulled back his arm, hit the mask again.

The fastenings tore, knocked away by the force of Steve's blow, black iron buckling. The man beneath the mask snarled upwards, drawing his fist to punch the Captain off him.

Steve froze, straddling the Winter Soldier, fist drawn back. But he couldn't move. He just stared down into that face. His fist lowered. "B-Bucky...?" he whispered, staring down at him.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" Polerion glared at him, readying himself for another round.

"Steve!" Tony called out in warning. The fire arced, white-hot as lightening--from Tony's device and Bruce's magic--

"No! NO!" Steve roared and he shoved himself down, slamming into the dirt on at the Soldier's side to block it from hitting the Winter Soldier.

His eyes widened, hair whipping about his face as the tall blonde threw himself in the way of the blast. Something twisted inside him, upset and angry, he couldn't stop staring, frozen in place.

Loki rolled in the dirt, scrambling up. "Polerion!" He took off, sprinting towards the Soldier. Loki skidded to a stop, grabbing him. "Did it hit you!" he demanded and did not wait for an answer--pulling at the Soldier for them to run. He whistled, high and sharp to get their horses running for them.

Steve grunted--screwing his eyes shut. His body strained--

Tony swiped his device, Bruce stopped the bolts. "What were you thinking, you idiot!"

"Steve! Are you all right!"

"They're getting away!" Natasha staggered up, clutching her arm. The two of them were grabbing horses, swinging onto them and going into an instant gallop across the dead grass.

"No--" Steve grunted, trying to push himself up. "B-Bucky..."

"Who is Bucky?" Tony asked.

Bruce frowned. "An old comrade--that was seventy years ago..." He knelt down to gently pry the burnt fabric off his skin. "Why did you get in the way..."

"Steve..." Natasha's voice softened just barely, her eyes focused on his, quickly assessing. "How would it be possible?"

"I--the Red Skull---he...he captured Bucky...experimented on him. When he fell from the cliffs....whatever Zola did to him--he must have helped him survive...."

The enormity sunk in slowly. What Bucky must have endured--must have gone through--all because Steve hadn't fucking saved him. All because of him and his stupid shield and his stupid body and the stupid war. "He looked right at me....he didn't even know me...."

"With dark magic... I remember, the stories." She came to him, kneeling down. "It's not your fault, Steve."

"Get the Captain in the carriage--anyone else take a hit?" Tony asked.

Clint was kneeling by Thor, melting the ice that had imprisoned him. The Prince scowled as he was freed, putting his hammer at his belt. He looked off into the distance--he could just see the green-clad prince and the Soldier vanishing into the trees. He burned it into his mind. "Yes--we need to get back. We should tell this to my father." He grabbed Steve by the arm, hauling him up and sitting him on the carriage. He tied Steve's horse to the back of the carriage.

Bruce mounted up, grimacing to himself. He should have stayed with the monks in the mountains, now there were lost princes and dead soldiers springing up around them.

Thor climbed onto his massive horse. "Laufey--I had never heard of him having a son. It could be a trick--coincidence."

"Helluva coincidence," Tony replied.

Thor huffed. "He did not expect us to know his name. And he is no Frost Giant."

They entered Asgard late the next afternoon, going in to see King Odin immediately, giving him a report of what had occurred.

This Winter Soldier and Loki, son of Laufey.

"This is a test of our defences." the old king said, his single eye much troubled by this development. "We must discover the truth and show we are not as weak as they might think."

"How do you want is to proceed, father?" Thor asked.

"By now they will be back in Jotunheim... we must increase the military strength along our borders. Captain Rogers." he addressed Steve. "Investigation into these mysteries must be thorough. Your friend supposedly died in the Western mountains, begin seeking answers there."

Steve nodded. "Thank you, Odin. I will leave tomorrow."

"If that man truly was my brother--I want to go with, Rogers."

"I did not intend for him to go alone." Odin spoke. "But be aware, this is a mission of secrecy and stealth." he eyed his sometimes volatile son. "We will not incite open warfare if it can be helped."

"We cannot afford to lose him then." He grinned at Steve, who rolled his eyes. "We should all go."

"As you will. I expect to be kept informed as to your progress."

Natasha bowed, "Of course, my king." Bruce followed her example.

 

 

Loki stopped in the woods, dismounting. "Polerion--get down. Are you all right? Let me check your arm."

"I am..." he looked at his arm, at the arrow shaft sticking from it as if looking through a fog. "That man with the shield."

Loki paused in carefully removing the arrow from his arm. "Yes, that was Captain Rogers." He verified.

"I knew him." he said softly.

Loki started. "What? Knew him? What do you mean?"

"I don't know... I know him."

Loki furrowed his eyebrows. "You feel like you know him or you know that you do."

It took Polerion moments to examine this question. "I... know him. How do I know him?" he said, distress edging into his words.

Loki shook his head. "I don't know. Did he say something to you?"

"Bucky... he called me Bucky."

Loki looked at his arm again, pulling out a salve for it. "We can try to find out," he said. "But Polerion, do not tell anyone else. If anyone else finds out that you have had a memory...they will wipe you again." He frowned. "So when the captain was burned...he was protecting you. It was not an accident?"

"Protecting me," he repeated. "He got in the way."

Loki blinked at him, bewildered. "How could he---wait, do you know when you were first frozen?"

"No. I have always been Hydra's... haven't I?"

Loki stared at him. "No," he said slowly. "My father told me you were a human volunteer." But when? Surely there must be a record somewhere. "I will try to find out but Polerion, again, you must not tell anyone that you had a memory."

"A memory. My... memory. Captain Rogers." His left arm trembled, Polerion bowing forwards. "I know him."

Loki was not sure what to do. The obvious would be to tell his father. But he knew if he did his companion would be wiped again, maybe even frozen. And it had not occurred to Loki that the Soldier had not known that he was a 'volunteer'. Though with all the freezings and memory wipes...Loki supposed it made sense. " Come--we must report back." He knew the King would ask to speak with the Soldier personally.

The Soldier nodded in acknowledgement, rising to his feet after Loki attended to his wound. He wasn't sure if he could keep secrets, he would try as orders were orders.

 

 

King Laufey was more than disappointed upon hearing that Loki and the Soldier had, in fact, engaged the Captain and his friends. Not only because Loki had risen to a common insult--but because they had been beaten and forced to retreat. Laufey did not blame the Soldier--he simply followed orders. This was Loki's mistake. He commanded the Prince to leave.

Loki kept his face carefully neutral, stalking out of the chamber. This would leave the Soldier alone with his father.

 

And the king, as he expected, turned to the Soldier. "Now, tell me everything. Tell me about each person there. How they acted. How they fought. What was said. Everything. Now."

 _Don't tell._ Loki's voice echoed in his ear. _Don't tell._

But he was commanded.

_Don't tell._

_Tell me everything._

King and prince...

The Soldier looked up and his fists clenched as his mouth opened, spilling out every tiny detail he could remember.

 

Laufey stared at him a long moment. Thor had been there. Prince Thor. And Thor had recognized Loki.

He narrowed his eyes. Hydra's next sacrifice....he had planned for it to be Loki. But if he was compromised....it may be best to start doing the memory wipes on Loki...or perhaps just kill him. He was clearly attached to the soldier. Loki's loneliness was ridiculously obvious. The Captain would be an acceptable sacrifice in Loki's place...

"You have done well, Soldier. Your loyalty, your honor pleases Hydra. For Loki to give you a nickname and feed you lies is simply a measure of his childish cruelty. But don't worry, soon he will be gone for good. He will serve Hydra as you have. The target is now top priority. Rogers must be brought to me at all cost. Any of the others can die. If Loki attempts to speak to you with anything beyond handler--kill him. He is not essential any longer."

 The Soldier stared at him, his mind slid into a series of crashing thoughts. Kill Loki. Bring the Captain. He felt strange, a constriction in his heart.

_Say nothing. They will wipe you._

He did not want to be wiped.

"I understand."

 "Now, the captain. You do understand that you can't know him. You have always been Hydra's."

"I have always been Hydra's." he repeated dutifully. "Hail Hydra, the Dark of the Frost Claims Those Who Look."

Laufey peered at him. "I will have the mages tend to you tonight to ensure you are not compromised. In two days, take Loki and go after the Captain. Do not tell Loki of our discussion here. I am your king. He is not the true-born prince and his humanity has betrayed him. He will pay for the lies he has told you."

"As you command." The Soldier bowed his head lowly to Laufey, swallow hidden by the curtain of his hair. Kindness was not allowed, ever.

He rose when he was dismissed and returned to Loki and his temporary chambers. He stood before the Winter Prince.

 

Loki looked at him a moment but did not press him. He had food brought and a bath prepared. "Go ahead--bathe and eat. You may rest if you wish."

The Soldier stared at him. He wanted to speak. He wanted to say -- but his jaw was locked, words failed. Finally he moved woodenly towards the bath, seeking out the heat while it was his to enjoy. "I have to bring the Captain to the king." he informed him, imparting the information he was allowed to share.

"Oh..." Loki looked at him. "Does he...wish to kill the Captain himself then?"

"I do not know, I am only to bring him here." he sank lower into the water, staring at his unnatural arm. The wound had closed and was almost gone already.

"What about the others?"

"Steve Rogers is the priority."

"Then the others....will be killed?"

"The mission is priority." he repeated, "Any obstacles will be removed."

Loki got up, crossing his arms and looking out the window. "What did he say about....well...about Thor? His recognizing me?"

He remained silent, blankly gazing at the prince.

Loki looked back at him. He nodded a little. "I see...." It wasn't hard to put together---whatever had been discussed, Polerion was not allowed to tell him. "Did he say when we leave next?"

"Two days from now. We are to leave and track the Captain."

Before Loki could answer--the court mages knocked, entering. "We have been directed by King Laufey to attend to the Soldier in preparation for his next mission."

Loki looked at him, as if to confirm. "I see."

 

When Polerion had been escorted away, Loki went to the window, staring out again into the heavy snowfall.

_Thor....Prince of Asgard....Thor...._


	4. The Dark of the Frost

Two days later, he was suited up by himself. No one saw him away, off, or even to his horse. They may not have liked him--but he was their prince. It was odd. Regardless, he showed up at the stables--and only then saw the Soldier, already mounted and waiting.

Loki looked around the stable. Even the younger stable hands were gone. He peered at the Soldier and took his horse--Aurora--from its stall. He did not rush--though obviously the Soldier was waiting. He brushed the animal down, checked all the equipment and gear. It was soothing, therapeutic. The stable smelled of warm horse, sweet hay--so different from the bear legion ranches--huge and dirty and always stinking of rotting meat. He knew the giants hated tending to his horse. But he was the prince and so they did it anyway, griping behind his back. Loki did not often get to tend to the beast himself. He liked to. The horse was quiet, did not speak, mock, jibe or rile at him. Sort of like the Soldier, he supposed--only the horse couldn't be brainwashed into hating him again.

"Polerion--is everything all right?" he asked, idly, sweeping his brush down Aurora's flank.

The Soldier looked at him, "I am in full health." he told him monotonously, "I am ready for the mission."

His lips pressed together. They had gotten to him. The Mages--even if they hadn't completely wiped him--they'd still fiddled with him. No more Polerion. Winter Soldier.

( _Again_.)

"Of course," Loki said blandly. He mounted up and they made their way over sparkling blue ice and crystaline snow. Loki could not admire its beauty today, walled off again at every turn. He hated his father, suddenly. More intensely than he ever had. He scowled as they rode. "We're both his tools, you know. His little puppets to dance around and do his bidding." He snorted. "Why am I even telling you--even if I do--you are programmed not to care, aren't you."

There was no answer once again. The Soldier simply followed obediently, his mind hammered hard into Hydra's chosen shape this time, doing away with Loki's meddling before the weapon could begin to think himself a man.

The Winter Soldier did not speak unless spoken to and then only to answer direct questions or acknowledge orders. They had information the Captain was heading for the Western mountains from the Jotun's spies.

"Polerion," he tried again. "Do you know that star? Or do you--," he cut himself off. Maybe when he saw the captain again...that Captain....

Capture Rogers alive....kill the others. Laufey had assured and prevented Polerion from believing or remembering Loki's words. But Laufey had not spoken to Loki at all about Thor. What did that mean? There had been accusations in the past that Loki was not Laufey's son. Usually from rebellious giants and Laufey had always denied it. But this time...nothing. Was that his punishment for his meddling? That didn't seem right. Far too lenient for corrupting the god-touched Soldier.

Then what? He looked at the Soldier again. Sitting stock-still, staring at the fire like a zombie, the Soldier was like a lump of wood. An extremely deadly lump of wood but a lump nonetheless. It wasn't his fault--Loki had to remind himself. It wasn't the Soldier's fault. He had risen to the jibes from Stark. He scowled. Stark--he'd make that arrogant bastard pay for that.

Through the night, the Soldier said nothing. Did nothing but carry doggedly on and attend to the most basic of tasks without prompting. He watched Loki--closely enough that Loki began to notice, getting a creeping feeling.

 _Kill him if necessary._ The Soldier had the parameters to call the judgement.

Loki tried to shake off the feeling as they entered the pass. He saw a gash of red, like blood on the wind. "Hold, Soldier. They are just ahead. Now--do not attack until I say."

But Loki started following again instead. He watched the group, creeping in the snow after them. And then--

 

The ice gave--

Steve and Thor fell first. Steve twisted, trying to dig his shield into the ice. Thor removed his hammer and smashed it into the wall, grabbing Steve by the leather straps of his armor. "All right!"

Steve stilled, smiling up at Thor. "Thank you," he said, spinning in a slow circle.

"Hold there a second, Thor!" Clint said. He drew back on his bow and fired. Across the narrow chasm, the shaft planted full-length into the ice. He handed the rope attached to it to Tony.

"You know," said Tony, "I really don't like to be handed things. My assistant isn't here, you know. I just--I'm not complaining, I just--" Bruce rolled his eyes and took the rope from him.

Nimble as a ferret, Clint skimmed down, feet seeming to mold to the rope. Bruce held tight, trying to keep it as still as possible as Clint tied the end of another rope to the implanted shaft. He grabbed the loose end and went skimming down the ice.

"Clint!" Steve called. "Don't go too far ahead! Clint!"

But in a twnkling, Clint was climbing back up. "There are stairs down here," he yelled through the snow. "It's about a fifty-foot drop!"

Steve shifted his shield. "Drop me, Thor."

Thor raised eyebrows at him. "You are certain?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Help the others."

Thor nodded and let him go.

Steve free-fell, twisting. He smashed into some crumbling stone steps, his shield taking the brunt of the impact. Steve stood up, merely shaking himself off. Above, he could see the white of snow as Thor jumped over to Clint, who steadied the prince as he whirled his hammer.

He shot up into the open air, grabbing Natasha and throwing her down at Clint. She swore at Thor, turning to brace herself for impact.

"Thor, you dumbass--!" Clint secured the rope around his arm so he could run up the ice and snatch Natasha from the air.

Tony and Bruce were forced to grab onto the burly prince.

"Yeah, don't think this means anything," Tony informed Thor.

"You are not nearly pretty enough."

 

Soon they were all together at the bottom, Bruce lit up the cave with small, floating lights.

On a far wall, loomed a great mural. Carved entirely from the ice, the Lord Hydra glared at them with red ruby eyes.

"How long has this been here?" Bruce frowned, his eyes lit uncomfortably on the Hydra mural. "It looks old."

"Old enough it might have been here when your friend fell, Steve." Natasha cautiously moved round the cave, scouting for any traps that might have been left; both physical and magical.

"It had to have been...." Steve murmured, looking away from the ghastly mural. "Where else could he have gotten connected to Hydra...I mean, that's the god that Red Skull associated with."

"That's old Consarian," Bruce told them, removing his glasses and using them to point above the huge carving, where strange characters curved in a wide arch. "No one uses that script anymore--except in certain spell books. I have one--from the nomadic Consarts themselves. Mostly dark magics--shadows, stealthy stuff, a lot of them were assassins or thieves."

"What does it say?" Steve asked.

Bruce tongued his cheek. "The Dark of the Frost Takes Those Who Look."

"The hell does that mean?" Thor asked.

Bruce shrugged. "Something specific to Hydra, I assume. Hydra is usually associated with snakes or serpents--cut off one head, two more take its place. Not usually associated with an element but its not unheard of." Bruce looked at the mural again, crossing his arms. His thick blue robes suddenly seemed to glimmer a little, the embroidary at the border seeming to shift, changing almost. Tony was the only one who noticed. "Red Skull was more into fire, if I recall correctly?" he said, looking to Steve.

The Captain nodded. "Yeah, he was. But he didn't have...anything like this--any sort of...motto? Is that the right word?"

"Not really," Bruce told him and chuckled. "But I understand what you mean."

"So what prompted the shift?" Clint asked, eyes constantly moving, fingers caressing his enchanted bow.

Tony sighed. "Well, after the Skull was killed by yours truly, Steve Rogers....Hydra vanished from any kind of public face. My father told me that Lady Carter always kept a search for other vagrant Hydra worshippers--but either they were all dead or went deep underground. I assume the underground option---and not just because we're underground."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "You should be deeply ashamed of that joke, Tony."

Tony made a face at him. "About twenty-five years ago---there _was_ a short-lived war between the Frost Giants and Asgard. Laufey, king of Frost Giants--attacked Asgard by surprise. Sacked a good chunk of the city before Odin took him downtown. Odin banished the Frost Giants to the deep north. Which, by the way---isn't all that far from here."

"How far is it?" Steve asked.

"Couple day's ride. Depending on the weather," Thor said. "Stout horse could make it if there was no blizzard--in a dozen hours. I occasionally would run patrols up that way. We couldn't get too close, of course--but we knew what was beyond--they built a great trench--almost a mile deep and a mile wide all along their borders. On clear days, you could see the top of their walls--sometimes they'd throw rocks or something at us, if they were bored."

"No bridges?" Steve asked.

"They don't need them," Thor replied. "They all command the ice and frost--they can make their own and then disintegrate them as soon as they finish."

"That was when Prince Loki was taken, right? That war twenty-five years ago?" Clint said. His eyes caught on Natasha, who was scaling the stone wall to get a closer look at the mural's ruby red eyes.

Thor nodded. "...my father returned from the battle. He and my mother oft fought side-by-side. When they returned, the guards were dead and Loki was gone. I was about five at the time. It was always presumed that they had killed Loki."

"Well....if Laufey kidnapped Loki....maybe wanted to make him...something like the Skull," Bruce mused.

"He didn't look like his face had a peel-off option," Steve said, looking up and watching Natasha as well as she pried one of the red eyes off the stone.

Thor shook his head. "I don't know, of course, if Loki and the man we met are the same. But my younger brother had black hair, deep green eyes. Most in Asgard have blond hair--Loki was different. He was unusual. My mother thought he would be extremely gifted with magic. And sometimes when he would come in contact--I mean--other warriors that wanted to see him--if they touched his skin--sometimes his skin would...change. To match them. She said he would learn to control it when he grew up. But then he was taken..."

Tony crossed his arms. "Natasha--what are you doing up there?"

She sat on the ledge of the mural, holding one of the red eyes. "Finding clues while you all gossip."

"Anything useful?" Tony asked.

"Yeah, these two gems--they're not rubies or garnets. They're fireglass."

"Fireglass," Bruce repeated. "How would they get fireglass?"

"What's fireglass?" Steve asked.

"Dragons," said Tony. "Of course, no one has seen a dragon in a hundred years. But they breath fire--the red, green, mountain varieties do. But the frost dragons---they were said to be the original mounts of Frost Giants. Their breath could be like....uh--like liquid frostbite. It was like fire---but so cold that if it touched you, your skin would turn black like frostbite--and rot away, like the touch of the Frost Giants. That's--that's where the term 'frostbite' comes from. From the Frost Dragons. But--if a frost dragon breathed long enough on diamonds--the diamonds would change into fireglass."

Natasha hopped down, bringing the gems. Each was the size of an orange. "They're genuine too. They're perfect. Worth more than most of the treasury in Asgard." Each gem sparkled, pure red and transparent. It caught and swallowed the lights from Bruce's orbs, shooting incredible prisms on the stone walls.

Steve touched one. "They're warm," he said, drawing his hand away like he'd found it breathing.

Natasha nodded. "Yeah--they're always warm. Fireglass made by other dragons are almost too hot to touch--but not frost dragon fireglass." She looked at Thor. "It has to be the Giants. Who else would have access to fireglass of anyone?" She slid the gems into her pack.

"We should keep going," Thor answered, looking grim.

The stone mural guarded a set of doors. Steve lit a torch to carry as they headed deeper.

And then emerged--into some kind of Great Hall. There were a few corpses, dust--

"Look at this..." Bruce grimaced, there were old... tools, if that was a word for them, lying around. Some of them looked to be stained with old blood.

Natasha stopped before what looked like a crude altar. It was long enough for a human man to lie down upon and, tellingly, there were rusted metal restraints. "What did they do to him..."

Steve approached the table. A shaky breath crawled silently from his mouth. He touched the restraints. They were like his--the ones he had worn when the mage, Erskine, had confired his current body upon him. He felt nauseated. "This is where they....changed him. Made him what he is now...."

He put his fists onto the slab, bowing his head over it.

"Steve... Steve it's not your fault." Natasha stood beside him, leaning into his line of sight. "You couldn't have known."

He stared at the altar, shaking his head. "I should have looked harder. I should have...I didn't know he was still alive. When I rescued him from the Skull's fortress...and then he fell from the ice bridge....I...there was no way he had survived--I thought. But there was still so much to do--but if I had just...Bucky was..."

"Falling from that height--no one should have survived." Bruce offered consolingly, "It's a miracle he did. Anyone would have assumed that he died and you had no time to search for a body."

Natasha touched his shoulder.

 

 

At the chasm top, something happened. The Soldier hesitated. Some cold pit had opened in his stomach, momentarily stealing his bland indifference.

He did not like this place. What a strange feeling. What.... _feeling_?

Loki glanced back at him. He examined him quietly but said nothing. He spread the frost, making a sort of slide to walk down into the chasm.

A tremor set in as they went in deeper, though the Soldier fought to control it. He followed close behind his handler trying to understand what was wrong with him.

He was afraid, afraid of this place for some reason. He felt cold not from the temperatures but old lurking fear. This was a bad place, he felt it in his bones and where the left arm conjoined to his body there was a sudden hot itching, spurring a longing to rip it off of himself.

Loki saw the Hydra mural. "Hydra..." he whispered. "But...why here...."

A sound. The Soldier's head jerked and looked for its origin and then realised, stupidly, that it was himself. A whimper, a strained attempt at refusal that would come to nothing. Nothing, nothing was what he was. "Hydra," he grated out. "The Dark of the Frost..." and then he seemed to choke on the words, strangling them into silence.

Loki looked behind him again, standing in the doorway of the Great Hall where he'd been observing the Captain and his friends. "Polerion...."

There was a sound, the Soldier grabbed hold of his head, shoulders shaking. "No, no."

Steve jerked his head up, whirling around. He started. "Bucky...!"

Loki tensed. He stepped towards the Soldier. "Polerion," he said again, reaching a hand to him.

Natasha looked at Clint, pulling out her knives. Clint was already drawing a shaft, aiming at Loki.

"No! No!" The Soldier backed up against a wall, his eyes wide and lips curled back over his teeth, snarling like a cornered animal. He grabbed hold of the harsh black hide of his left arm, teeth gritted.

"Polerion!" Loki broke face, going to him, trying to pull his clawed fingers away from the demon arm.

Touch was the wrong idea. The Soldier let out a sudden roar, of fear and anger twisted up together. He threw out his arms, and Loki slammed back into the wall, forcing all air from his lungs. He shoved himself up instantly, cutting across the stone back to the Soldier.

"Bucky!" Steve burst out and ran--Thor tried to grab for him and missed. He followed him, sprinting across the grand hall.

Steve grabbed Loki to try and shove him away. "Let him go!"

Loki jerked back, grabbed his glaive.

"Loki--wait!" Thor commanded.

The Soldier's eyes rolled and locked on Steve.

The target, bring back the target. He lunged for him, drawing back his fist.

 "We need to subdue--not kill them," Bruce reminded Clint.

"Then use your magic--else I'm gonna shoot them."

Bruce grimaced. "I'll try. There's no guarantee that my magic will work, you know. If he is Prince Loki and the other---is Hydra's then they'll both be resistant to magic. The Soldier is like the dark version of Steve." But he raised his hands, focusing on the Winter Soldier first.

  Thor went to Loki. "Loki--whatever they've told you--let us take you back to Father. He will know the truth--"

"Don't touch me!" Loki scrambled up, trying to jump back. But Thor grabbed him, clearly more physically powerful than the smaller, slighter Loki. Loki's skin tingled, making the dark-haired prince freeze in place. Watching the glimmer from his human flesh to match the Soldier, whisking through the blue patterns of the ice giants and then back to something warmer. Something more like Thor--

Loki hissed, slicing up with his other hand--slamming Thor into the wall with a blade of ice. 

"Loki!" Thor grabbed into his green robe. "You are my brother! I saw your skin change--our mother knows of it--you must listen!"

"I  _must_ do no such thing! I've been fed enough lies by my father and everyone else to last a lifetime! So now you say, I am an Asgard Prince--trading one nightmare for another. Am I the monster under the bed for the others of the Nine Realms or am I the ravaging people from Asgard who would go to war and butcher every man, woman and child if Prince Thor was so much as insulted by a beggar child!"

"I am not that man anymore, Loki. You do not know me--you have been fed the lies of Laufey. You are not Laufey's son!"

"I am no one! I am no one's son."

"You are not like the Soldier!"

"Why couldn't I be--if I were no one, then I can be anyone!"

Thor's eyes--something softened in them, flinching back. "But why would you want to be no one when you can be my brother."

Loki started--not expecting that response. He stared at Thor.

"Let me take you home."

Loki grabbed onto the instinctive anger, pulled it up like a shield. "There is no home!" He dissolved in shimmers. Thor grabbed for him but Loki was already sprinting around him, pulling out his knives.

Meanwhile, Steve jerked, grabbing for Bucky's arm and tried to flip him.

The Soldier twisted with it, body curling trough the air, coming down with his feet underneath and then slamming his weight upwards into Steve. "You will submit." He spoke so coldly, so quietly, the left arm pulsing and freezing the air around it.

Steve jumped, tried to jerk back. The ice was paralyzing the air, arresting everything around the two of them. Steve grabbed into him, threw him bodily into the wall.

Loki caught sight of the green ripple around Bruce--his glaive flashed out, slamming the butt into Thor, twisting underneath him. Agile as a cat--pointing the glaive to cascade ice over the mage--

The arrow smashed into Loki's palm, pinning it to the wall. The prince looked at it and jumped up, planting his feet on the stone to shove himself off of it. Blood sprayed hot on the stone.

Thor scrambled to Loki--planning to jerk the arrow out--just missed one of Loki's flashing silver knives. He socked him in the temple. Loki collapsed onto the stone, dazed a moment, and then pushing himself back up.

The Soldier flew, crashing near the carving of the Hydra. He came down onto the floor with a yell, struggling to push himself up and then there was suddenly green energy around him and he was blinking stupidly in the wake of it.

Tony picked up a rock. "Knock him out, Steve!" He mimicked smashing with the rock.

"No--what are you doing!" Loki flashed up again. "Pole--!"

Thor struck him, a mighty fist slamming Loki into the wall--he crumbled again.

Steve hesitated. "I--Bucky, I....I'm sorry." he closed his eyes and he struck the Winter Soldier in the face.

He whimpered and then went down hard, words floating around in his mind. The mages' secondary Orders would take over, swimming into the Soldier's mind. _If capture is unavoidable, go with them. Go to Asgard and learn everything you can. Spy. Only worry about yourself--Loki is no longer protected or an asset._

 

Bruce leaned against the wall. "They followed us. It's strange..."

"What?" Natasha asked curiously.

"Last time the two faced off against us they failed, why send just the two of them alone together again?"

Thor narrowed his eyes. He picked up Loki himself. "Laufey should have known that all of us would definitely be traveling together."

Steve knelt to Bucky, carefully scooping him up, cradling him. "I'm sorry, Bucky....is there any way we can...get back faster...."

Bruce came forward, "Here." He took his spare cloak from his pack and bound up the Soldiers left arm as carefully as he could. "We need to be careful of this arm, there is a demonic energy about it."

"We'll push the horses as fast as we can, Steve." Natasha assured him.

"How are we going to get out of here?" Clint asked. "It's not like we can fly."

"Speak for yourself," Thor said. "I'll get everyone out."

"And we still haven't found anything concrete about him," Tony said, nodding to the Soldier. "We should go deeper. Explore the facility."

"Stark's right. We need information to work with." Natasha pursed her lips, "We could restrain them for now until we've found what we can."

"I'm not leaving him alone," Steve said immediately.

"Steve--" Clint started, reproachful.

"It's not happening," Steve repeated. "I won't leave him again."

"Tony, you and Clint shall lead the way then," Thor said. "Captain Rogers and I will carry these two."

"If they start to wake up punch them again." she said, practically.

"Shut up," Steve said darkly. "Can't we do something--no one has any useful magic here or what?"

"The Sold -- Barnes has the same magical resistance as you do." Bruce explained to Steve. "I can work a sleep spell with Loki but with your friend, it's different. I'm sorry."

Steve sighed. "....I'm sorry, Bruce. I shouldn't be so critical. I was so focused on him--I didn't even think--I'm sorry, Bruce."

"No, it's okay," Bruce shook his head. "None of us can understand how this must be for you, Steve, but we are here to help, we're your team."

Steve looked away. "I'm sorry." He kept carrying Bucky.

They moved on, Bruce lighting their way with an ethereal flame. It grew grimmer as they went on. Most of the parchments they found crumbled under their fingers but they tucked up what few didn't as carefully as possible. They explored as much as they could. A cave-in had blocked much of it off and with temperatures dropping they decided to cut their losses and head back out, make their way back to the horses and hurry back somewhere secure to deal with their prisoners. Loki and the Soldier's horses were waiting, docile, with their own horses. Clint tied the Soldier's horse to his saddle. Tony took Loki's.

The Soldier began to wake up after an hour, groaning in Steve's hold.

Steve blinked a little. He held Bucky close, pressing his head into Steve's shoulder.

"Mission..." he mumbled, opening his eyes blearily.

_Go with them. Learn what you can._

He saw the man with the shield, he was being carried.

"It's all right, Buck," Steve murmured. "It's all right. I've got you."

"Steve," Clint said carefully, drawing his bow.

"Who is Bucky?" he asked, looking up at him, focusing on his face.

They had bound his arms and legs with rope, unsure if it would hold. 

"You are," Steve told him, staring back into his eyes.

"Steve, stop your horse." Clint said, drawing a shaft.

Steve did not, holding his friend. "You are Bucky. You are my best friend."

"Dammit Steve..." Clint grumbled.

"I'm the Winter Soldier." he corrected him in confusion. "I am the tool of Hydra."

Natasha slipped her hand down to one of the knives in her belt.

"No, you're not. You were stolen by Hydra. You don't belong to Hydra. You are human. You were--are my best friend. We grew up together."

"You're my --" he broke off, gritting his teeth and jerking his head to the side, away from Steve's eyes. "You're my mission."

"NO," Steve snapped--louder than he intended. And then quieter. "No, you're my friend. I'm your friend."

"I'm a weapon." the denial came back just as swiftly.

Bruce drew his horse up beside them, "Steve, don't push him."

"You are NOT--you are my--" he looked at Bruce and then back at Bucky. "He's--he's not a damn weapon. He's my friend." He pushed Bucky's head back to his shoulder.

"I know that, Steve...but he doesn't."

"Shut up, Banner!" Steve lashed out, raising his shoulders.

The Soldier resisted a little but... he was warm, this man and he keened for that warmth like a half-remembered dream. "I don't know you." he grumbled.

 "You do, Bucky. And you'll know it eventually. You know me. I know you do."

Bruce grimaced and moved onwards before Steve's temper frayed any further.

 "You're angry." The Soldier said, not understanding. "Where are you taking me?"

"Mazurc is the nearest town. We're heading there for the night. The blizzard is intensifying. We should be there in an hour. We will rest and then continue to Asgard. No one is going to hurt you so do not worry. I am going to keep you safe."

Clint and Tony exchanged looks. Thor raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, who's gonna keep him safe," Clint muttered to Natasha. "You know he won't let us watch the guy. He's completely compromised. I mean, saw the guy for two seconds and his focus and everything else is shot. I could put an arrow in him like he is now."

"Yeah, I dare you to try and take him away. Steve will go at you like you took a bone from a starving dog." Tony grimaced, watching the soldier's face, half-buried in Steve's big shoulder.

Thor glanced down at Loki--the side of his face was covered in half-frozen blood. He grit his teeth. "Quiet yourselves. You do not understand."

 


	5. Nothing Up His Sleeve (but Hydra)

“How are you so sure I won’t kill you.”

"You're my best friend, Buck."

"I'm the Soldier. Not Bucky." he shook his head against Steve's leather body armor.

_Blue eyes too huge in a thin face._

"Cause you're James Barnes and I've always called you Bucky. So shut up."

Shut up. It's an order, easily obeyed. He shuts up and says not another word.

Steve sighed and looked down.

 

They made it to Mazurc safely, taking guest rights in the local Lord's manor who was over the moon to house Prince Thor and the fabled Captain Rogers as well as provide necessary secure holdings for their prisoners.

Loki was just starting to stir. He was cuffed quickly, his glaive taken and searched for other weapons. He didn't wake fully until he was already in a cell. He cast around but he was alone.

The Soldier was gone--Steve would never allow him to be locked up. He kept the Soldier at his side at all times, not letting any guard speak to him and if anyone so much as _touched_ a weapon, Steve watched him or her until they passed out of sight.

"One of us keeps an eye on Steve and the Soldier at all times." Natasha muttered to Clint particularly, "We'll take shifts."

Clint nodded in agreement. "Thor is too obvious and Tony couldn't sneak his way out of a linen closet." Clint could become one with the shadows. Bow strapped to his back, circling the floor, trading off with Natasha for a meal.

Steve took the Soldier to his room. "Do you want a bath?" He asked. "Are you cold? Do you like the cold?"

 _Did_ he like the cold...? It felt like treason to admit the truth, he swallowed hard, fighting the word out. "No."

"That's all right," Steve told him. He knelt down, building up the fire. He had water pumped into a tub and got it ready himself. "Let me help you," he offered, carefully, slowly reaching out to touch the leather body armor.

The Soldier stared, watching him through the whole process. He remembered baths before, Loki let him bathe. It was a treat, a reward he didn't think he'd earned from his enemy. Still, his head automatically snapped up as Steve came close, tensing as his fingers touched the straps.

Steve slowed. "I just want to help you. Is that all right?" he asked, fingers pausing on the thick straps.

_Go. Learn._

He breathed shakily. "I... can't get it off alone." Why did this make his heart beat faster?

Steve watched him carefully. He nodded slowly. "All right. It's all right." He loosened the belt clasps, unstrapping at the shoulders and then down to the gauntlets. He pulled them off for his friend and then back up to finish with the body armor, opening it and then lifted up over the Soldier's head. The secondary Asgardian plate underneath lifted and the linen shirt under it was last, stale with sweat.

He sat, helping him get his boots loosened and off and then started in on the straps of leather that secured knives and other close range weapons.

He stood statue-still for him, just the way he was trained to do, eyes focusing passed the broad line of Steve's shoulder. The Soldier breathed easier once the armour was gone, standing in his loose linens as Steve found every last hidden weapon.

If the orders changed he had nothing left now.

"We were friends?"

Steve removed his belt, got the trousers off. He lifted the armor and clothes and put them in a separate tub to be washed and repaired. He paused when he was back in front of him. "....yes. Best friends. We grew up together in a filthy slum. We...looked out for each other."

"Why don't I remember?" he asked, looking down into blue eyes.

"Because you were taken...by Hydra," Steve's gaze dropped. "We went on a mission together. You were taken from us by Hydra and his followers--Zola first, then the Ice Giants....they wiped your memory."

"It upsets you," he surmised. _(Someone was feeling so much over him. Him, who was a nobody, a nothing, a tool to be used by better hands.)_

Steve looked at him, smoothing a hand over his loose shirt. "Yes, it does. King Laufey--is he the one who commands you? He's been lying to you this whole time. They've wiped your memories, tortured and hurt you...I'll--" He looked down, took a moment to calm himself. "Yes--it upsets me. You are my best friend." He gently took hold of Bucky's shirt and lifted it over his head.

"You can't kill them," he replied soberly, his arms lifting up obediently. Scars criss-crossed his pale torso, a mass of them standing out in angry lines where the demonic arm connected at his left shoulder. "They will take the world."

"That's what they think. They've lied to you, they've lied to Loki--Loki is not King Laufey's son. Loki is the true brother of Thor, Prince of Asgard. They'll take nothing else while I'm still around." Steve trailed away when he saw the arm. "What is this arm?" His fingers traced up Bucky's chest, up the scars, gently touching where the black hide met flesh.

He shivered suddenly under Steve's touch but it wasn't cold, far from it. His fingers were very warm. "I don't know. It serves Hydra."

He smoothed his palm over the molted flesh. "Does it feel sensation? Do you control it?"

The sound he made then surprised him, a soft sigh, not necessarily of pain. "It feels...I do." He thought he did anyway.

Steve paused, keeping his large palm on the flesh. "Is that all right?" he asked, gently rubbing down the arm. He urged Bucky to the large tub and pulled the rest of his friend's clothes off. "Here," Steve said, taking Bucky's arm to brace him so he could step into the tub.

He shuddered, bewildered. "It never felt like that before." The Soldier got into the tub, sinking into familiar heat and as always draping the winter-fueled arm over the side, away from the hot water. The heat pulled him in, prompting an instinctual reaction to relax.

Steve pulled up a chair, sitting by him. He gently reached into the warm water with a rag and soft soap. He cleaned Bucky's hair, chest, arms, anything he could reach that he felt wouldn't cause an adverse reaction. And then went to the demon arm last. He massaged it rather than soaped it up.

He kept watching him, his eyes focused uneasily on Steve. He ignored all the swipes of the rag, used to people observing him like this, at least. And yet, as much as he didn't remember this man...something lingered. "... you were smaller," the Soldier tried.

Steve's hands pause on his shoulder. "...yeah, I was. I was found by a mage, Erskine--he made me what I am now."

"Is it better?" How did he know that?

"I was very sickly before that. Always sick. Always getting into fights. Heart of a lion, body of a mouse. So....yeah, it's...it's better."

He nodded slowly, putting his human arm around his knees.

Steve frowned. "...what? What is it? Bucky? Buck?" He knelt down to him.

"I don't know how I knew that," he replied, not looking up at him. "I don't know why... I feel strange around you."

"That's because deep down, you know me. They've just tried to convince you that you don't."

"You're so certain. I don't understand." He shook his head."

Steve braced his elbow on the edge of the tub, put his forehead in his hand.

"You don't treat me like your enemy, I was sent to kill you. I still could kill you. You didn't even disarm me when you caught me," his voice rose, inflection colouring his words, nervous and uncomfortable, breathing quickening. "You keep looking at me like I'm..."

"I know. It's not your fault. You are not my enemy. You aren't."

"You're a fool!" He spat, eyes rolling, ice crawling along the side of the tub. "You should kill me, I'll only hurt you."

"Yeah, I've heard worse." Steve shrugged. "You think mighty highly of yourself, if you think you can kill me that easily. Arrogant jerk."

"You don't know how many people I've killed." he replied, shaking his head. "It's what I know. All I do is kill."

"It's not all you know. Else you wouldn't remember things about me. I've killed people too, Bucky."

"Not like I have." he said darkly. "You're a hero."

"So what. Killing is killing," Steve said, darkly.

The Soldier shook his head, "You're a stubborn punk. You think you know."

"Yeah, and I could crush you like a toothpick. So killing is killing. People justify it all kinds of ways. Now can we talk about how you're Bucky and not the damn Winter fucking Soldier."

He lunged up from the bath, half-tripping over the rim and stumbled, naked, away from Steve, clapping his hands over his head as he collapsed onto the floor next to the bed. The Soldier's ears were ringing, _Bucky, Bucky, Bucky..._

"Shut up! Just shut up!"

Steve jumped up, dodging to him, kneeling, grabbing him. "Bucky--it's okay! Bucky!" He grabbed an arm around Bucky's shoulders, pulling him close.

He tried to lash out, punch Steve, struggling as he was pulled in to that impossibly warm chest. "I don't like killing--I'm not saying that. It's just what I--"

"You can still be you, Bucky." Steve sat down hard on the floor, hoping him closer. He pulled Bucky into his chest.

"I can't!" He looked at him fearfully, hands pulling at his hair "I don't want to hurt you."

"Stop worrying about me! This isn't about me! This is about _you!"_

"Steve--" his voice broke as he curled in on himself in front of Steve's chest. _(You don't understand, I'm here to spy on you. I'll kill you with your kindness.)_ He was here to...he was...he had use it. He could see it in the Captain's face--he remembered something that Bucky didn't. And whatever it was--it kept the Captain off-guard. "I don't know who I am."

"I know who you are. That's enough. And I will help you remember." Steve's armor was now damp with water from Bucky's body. He didn't seem to notice, holding him closer.

His chest heaved, he couldn't seem to get enough air. "I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to."

"It's all right, Buck....it's okay....you know me. It's okay." Steve rubbed his back gently, rocking back and forth. He relaxed against the wall, pulling Bucky onto his lap. He embraced him, his body like a furnace.

The Soldier didn't say anymore, couldn't say anymore. He didn't know what he wanted to say, even. A million things and none, unknown words danced on the tip of his tongue from somewhere deep within and froze before they could escape. He shivered, naked, in the Captain's lap like a frightened child waiting for the blow to fall.

Eventually, Steve got up. He lifted Bucky easily--carrying him to his bed. He put the Soldier in clothes from his own pack, loose and linen and comfortable and tucked him into the furs. He sat by him.

The man lay stiffly down, limbs straight like a corpse. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep, not like this--in the den of the enemy, away from the familiar cold that had been his bed for so long. Sleep therefore took him by complete surprise, his body going from tense to limp in a single breath. In slumber he was very still.

 

 

Thor sat in the library later on. He had tried looking listlessly through the books but could not seem to settle his mind. 

He had no memory of Loki. He had only been five when Loki was taken—all he had were the stories from his mother and father. And the rage, pent-up anger at such a wrong never being righted. In the name of peace, certainly—more than once Odin had had to censor Thor’s hot-blooded ways. But he was different now. Not so hot-blooded, perhaps. But still determined.

Still….stubborn.

He drank ale that a servant had left. It warmed him, almost more than the fire in the hearth. The manor was so quiet—no doubt the Lord had instructed the Prince and his companions be left alone. So he finally took off his heavy boots, his thick, double-sewn cloak and was working on the armor when the door opened.

His fingers stopped. “Captain Rogers,” he said, nodding to him.

“Need some help?” Steve offered, shutting the door and going to Thor. Without waiting for an answer, he reached up, deftly untying the straps. “It’s always easier to have a hand—even if we don’t like it.”

“I agree. Thank you, Captain.”

“It’s Steve, you know.”

Thor looked at him.

“You know. Steve? The name.”

Thor smiled, chuckling softly. “Forgive me. I always read your stories. It feels strange to call you by your name.”

Steve helped him lift the heavy Asgardian plate off and over his head. “Well, quit it.” He smiled, automatically taking one of Thor’s gauntlets and undoing the straps to help remove it. “I’m Steve. Never been anyone but Steve.”

With one gauntlet removed it would now be easy for Thor to remove the rest on his own. He moved to do so, still talking, “I always read that your family was very poor.”

“We were—lived in a slum. So I don’t mind the time shift. Things are a little better, anyway.” Steve preferred a lighter armor than Thor. The Prince was a juggernaut. Steve’s armor was a medium thickness, leaning more towards a light armor. It was custom-made and heavily enchanted. Stark had done the metalwork—Banner had done the enchanting. “I know you and Odin do what you can.” He pushed the thick leather on his finger into a strap, unhooking the gauntlet’s clasp and unraveled it. Large hands crossed in his vision, he looked up, seeing Thor moving to help him. “How is he?” Steve asked.

There were no doubts as to who ‘he’ was.

Thor sighed softly. “Does not want me near him. I offered him food and medical care—he refused, told me to leave. So I did. I don’t know what to do for him—with him. It sounds like he has been lied to at every turn—he will not trust me easily.” He removed Steve’s gauntlet and then went to the straps of his leather armor. His eyes kept on his task but they still seemed far away. “And what of the Soldier? Clint Barton and Natasha are afraid he will attack you when your back is turned.”

It was now Steve’s turn to look down. “He’s sleeping now, hopefully. He was…perfectly docile. Ate, bathed, was quiet. I know that Bucky is in there somewhere. He didn’t even try to escape.”

“Perhaps he was assigned to protect Loki?”

Steve frowned. “I don’t know.” He tilted his head to let Thor work on the other shoulder. “Something is different between them--the first time we saw them…they were a unit. But this time…they seemed…different. Loki called him— _Polerion_? But this time, Bucky didn’t respond to it. And he hasn’t asked about Loki at all—nor made any sort of move to go find him.”

"Polerion...I believe that is the winter star of Jotunheim. I wonder if Loki gave him that name or if someone else did." Thor shifted and Steve reached up to help—Thor removed the armor, up and over his head. He carried it near the hearth, placing it on a mannequin next to his own. He did not try to touch the shield—Steve brought it over himself, hooking it on a peg in the middle of the mannequin’s head. The two men stood in front of their respective armors. Thor touched the scales of sparkling Asgardian heavy steel—best craftsmanship in all the Nine Realms. This armor was his second skin—it had saved his life more than once. He tended to it carefully. Thor worked silently, checking every piece for tears, holes, loose plate. Beside him, Steve did the same with his leather and steel-studded gear.

Thor turned away first. He went to one of the shelves and took out a large canter of amber liquid. “Sit, Cap—Steve,” he changed to the first name pointedly. “We’ll have whiskey.” Thor poured two generous glasses. “According to the label—this is quite old. Almost as old as you.”

Steve laughed. “Classier, I bet, though.”

“That doesn’t take much.”

Steve grinned. And for a few minutes, the two men sat in companionable silence. Being with Thor was like being with the Commandoes again. Steve found his eyes drawn to the flames. Over and over, he saw Bucky fall. That last mission with the Howling Commandoes. The Red Skull’s underling, Zola—was being transported across the border from Midgard and into Asgard. Crossing the border would allow only one point where they would slow down—on the Ice Bridge that connected the White Sea from one realm to the other. The sparkling bridge started near the shore and curved up to cross through the White Mountains. At that moment when they slowed to cross the border, Steve and the others had leapt down on top of the ice train. And then the fight, furious and short—

And Bucky getting knocked right out the door, falling and falling and—

He started a little, Thor had grabbed onto his knee. “I know that the others say you should not blame yourself. I have the same sentiment but I know that saying it doesn’t make it possible. You are a noble man, Steve. Sometimes that nobility crushes you.”

Steve glanced into Thor’s face. “Do you blame yourself…for Loki?”

Thor looked down, then back at Steve. “I know it’s illogical—but some part of me thought that when I saw him next—he would surely come to his senses. See me for who I was—his brother, Thor, son of Frigga and Odin. But he did not—and part of me wonders if I am simply not a good enough man yet. He commanded me not to touch him—as if he were afraid. Because when I did during that fight—his skin changed. I could feel his magic. His is better developed—and my mother was right, he’s powerful in it—but it is the same kind as mine. Just better.” He smiled. “It was as though his magic could sense mine and wanted to connect to it—he lost control of his ability to change his appearance for a moment.”

“Sounds like that scared him a little.”

“Having control taken from you—when you have little enough to begin with—can be terrifying.”

Steve met Thor’s eyes, knew he was not talking only about Loki.

“….you are a good friend, Thor.”

“You as well, Steve. And I understand your frustration. Feeling helpless, knowing what could help—but being unable to do so…”

“You don’t want to hurt them,” Steve agreed. “Don’t want to force them--but I know what’s best—I mean, I know we could help him. If he’d just…let me. I don’t want to make him—but…”

“Yes…Loki’s magic far outclasses mine but physically—I am stronger. I could force him into it. I could use my hammer--but I don’t want to do that. I feel as though I am helpless. It…”

“It’s not a good feeling,” Steve agreed, feeling their shoulders touch.

The two of them stared at the floor. Steve realized after a moment that Thor was still touching his knee, as if bracing him to the floor. He looked at Thor’s hand and then at the Prince, who suddenly seemed to feel his gaze.

“Ah. I…” Thor withdrew his hand. “I apologize. I did not realize…”

Steve shook his head. “It’s all right. Everyone—gets that sometimes. Just—uh, you know—“ he had intended to go on. To be profound and reassuring but then couldn’t quite seem to bring the words together.

“The physical over the mental,” Thor provided.

“Er. Yeah,” said Steve, scratching the back of his neck. He downed the rest of the whiskey, burning down his throat.

They were quiet for a moment, something thick and strange there.

“We should sleep,” Thor announced.

Steve nodded. “Yeah.” As one man, they rose and headed out. They said nothing else.

Steve closed his door. “That was weird.”

Thor closed his door. “That was strange.”

 

By the time Steve came back the Soldier had finally moved, curling into a tight ball amid the furs. He twitched uneasily, the occasional whimper escaping him in his sleep.

Steve went to the trunk of clothes left by the Lord, changing into linen shirt and pants. He walked over to the bed and climbed in. "Bucky, s'okay," he said quietly, pulling him close. He was like a living furnace of warmth.

He twitched again. "M'cold Steve," he mumbled in his sleep.

 _Blue eyes, the scent of hay._ The dream he always dreamt in the ice.

"I know." Steve gently nudged him, turned him over so that Bucky faced him. "C'mon, I can keep you warm now. Like we used to do in Brooklyn. Remember Brooklyn--on the eastern coast of Midgard?" He wrapped his arms around him, enveloped Bucky.

It felt more real now, but not quite right. The body was too big, the eyes not over large in a small face but there was warmth, there was a scent he knew, there was a voice he knew. If he could only remember...

The Soldier pressed his face into Steve's neck, mismatched hands curling into his shirt.

Steve got a shiver when he did that. He swallowed, mentally shaking it off. He couldn't help though--but weave his fingers into Bucky's long hair. He combed his fingers through, warm and soothing.

The shivering slowly stopped, the Soldier's breathing evened out. He slept deep and calm, for the first time in many years.

 

 

Then in the morning, he snapped awake with a broken gasp, like a man suddenly taking in air after being drowned.

Steve's eyes flashed open, meeting Bucky's. "Buck...?" he whispered. "You okay?"

His chest heaved as his eyes flickered around widely and then focused on Steve. He seemed to be confused again, waking up like he did when he came out of the ice.

" _Where._ "

"You're with me--Steve. And we're in Lord Somebodyorother's house--we're staying overnight. It's okay. You're safe." His muscled arms had not loosened.

"No... I, my--" Stay. Watch. Learn. He swallowed thickly and looked up at Steve. "I'm... safe."

"Yeah, you're safe." Steve smiled gently, eyes warming. "You're safe with me."

"I... I'm not going into the ice?"

"No," Steve said patiently. "No more ice. No more freezing. No more any bad stuff. I will keep you safe."

He looked unconvinced, it always happened sooner or later. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Just stay with me. We're going to Asgard. You can eat what you want, read, ask questions--we'll do whatever we can for you."

Just stay. It seemed too simple a command but it is a command, he was most comfortable following commands and this one fits in with his prime directive. "I will stay with you."

"Yes, stay with me. With me." Steve closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead.

The Soldier frowned. He reached out, human fingers touching Steve's wrist as he did that.

Steve opened his eyes again, meeting Buck's--lowering his fingers. "What's up? You okay?"

"I don't--" he paused, blinking slowly. "You're..." the Soldier struggled to find the words. "Okay?"

Steve nodded. "Y-yeah, I'm okay. Just...I've missed you so much, Bucky..."

He nodded slowly and let Steve's wrist go, barely understanding but accepting.

Eventually they would get up. The Soldier plucked at the strange clothing he wore; Steve's clothing, regular riding leathers--inconspicuous. He was not given back his armour to wear, or his weapons. Those would be packed away into a trunk and put into a carriage. He felt out of place and vulnerable like this.

He was also watched; he felt it, the eyes on him, prickling at his skin.

The Lord gave them fresh horses for their carriage. Loki was brought up, still cuffed. Thor did not look at any of them as he led Loki to the carriage and put him inside. The Winter Soldier was put in as well. Steve rode right next to the door--so he could still see Bucky and speak to him.

Inside, the Soldier glanced at Loki, his eyes flicking over the other man before focusing down on his own lap. He rode in silence the whole way, staring at his own hands but always aware of his surroundings.

The Captain's presence nearby was at once unnerving and comforting.

The path back to the capital would take three days, stopping at inns or other noble manors along the way.

"You do know him, don't you?" Loki asked, looking at Captain Rogers. "Did he say who you were?"

"I don't know," he replied, watching his mismatched hands, flexing the fingers. "Bucky."

Loki scowled. "I mean, besides that. He was already calling you that. Who is Bucky?"

"His friend," he murmured. "I'm his friend. He was smaller."

Loki looked at him. "....you really did know him, didn't you? You were his friend. Before you were taken..."

The Soldier looked up at him, his expression open and lost like a young child's. "I don't remember."

"My father told me that you...were a volunteer for Hydra. Hey--Captain."

Steve glanced in through the grating at Loki.

"What really happened to him?"

Steve looked at Thor and then back in the bars. "James Barnes has been my friend since childhood. He was captured by the Red Skull and experimented on. I saved him--we went on missions together against Hydra. During one mission--he fell from an ice bridge--he was taken by Zola and...made into the Winter Soldier. So there was no volunteering," he said, suddenly terse. "No choice, no volunteering. Bucky was a better man than to kill innocent people. Your father is just a scumbag. I will never let your Frost Giants hurt him again. I--"

Thor grabbed Steve's arm. "Mind your words, Midgardian. He is not Laufey's son. He is my brother. And he was stolen from us as well."

"You were both lied to," Natasha spoke up. "Both of you are victims of Hydra and Laufey, we would help you if you let us."

In the carriage the Soldier shivered. "I... fell..." he felt sick suddenly, sliding down onto the floor of the carriage.

The two men glared at each other. Thor's hard ice-blue eyes into Steve's big summer sky ones.

Loki kicked the door, as his hands were still cuffed. "I know you're busy and all--but I think he's going to be ill."

Steve jerked away from Thor and jumped down from his horse. He wrenched the door open and climbed in, grabbing Bucky into his arms.

He was sick, suddenly and violently as Stark halted the carriage.

Vomit splattered over the carriage floor, bringing up what little he had eaten until bile was staining his lips. The Soldier whimpered, "Gods, I fell... it's cold, it's cold."

Steve didn't even pay attention as it slopped his armor. Steve put an arm under his, carrying him outside.

"River front just down this hill," Clint told them and Steve carried Bucky down. He sat down on the river shore, removing Bucky's shirt and methodically wiping him down. "It's okay, Bucky. I've got you. I got you."

Bruce brought them a towel, clean clothes from his own pack and then backed away to give them privacy.

"I fell. Why did I fall? Why did I fall?!" He grabbed hold of Steve tightly with his right hand, nails scratching over polished plate.

Steve held him. "It was an accident. Someone attacked me and you tried to protect me--and you were struck off the ice bridge."

"It's not mine," he whispered hoarsely, "It's not mine, Steve." He turned fearful eyes to his left arm, "Get it off, please, get it off."

Steve looked at him and then at the arm. He nodded and laid Bucky down. "Okay--okay, I will. Banner! Come here! I need you!" He took off his cloak and started pulling off his top layer of armor.

"What are you doing?" Thor asked. "Captain--this--you cannot mean to--"

"If he wants the arm off, we'll get it the hell off."

"Steve--that is crazy." Clint said. "Hell, Steve? What--"

"Shut up! Banner, come here and help me." He threw his armor aside and pulled off his belt. "Don't worry, Bucky. I'll help you."

"This is a terrible idea, Steve," Bruce told him. "You don't know what that arm can do!"

Inside the carriage, Loki's eyes widened. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. You don't understand."

Natasha looked at Loki, "What don't they understand?" she asked sharply.

"That arm is Hydra's. Not Polerion's."

"It's not mine, it's not mine!" Bucky insisted out, fingers scrabbling for one of Steve's axes. Bucky shook violently, the arm itself dug into the earth.

"Steve, we can't just do this here!" Bruce tried again, "We don't have everything necessary, it's too dangerous to do an amputation of something we don't understand in the wilderness. We can look into it when we get back to the capital."

Steve swore at them. "Get away then if you won't help! That arm is evil." He snapped at him. He pulled out his one-handed axe. He pulled his belt over Bucky's shoulder. He tightened it. "Bucky, stay with me, all right? Gonna feel a pinch, yeah? Just like chippin a tooth. Remember, when we found dead sailors at the docks and we chipped out their teeth for the fillings? Like that." He braced his knee on Bucky's elbow.

Tony jumped down, hurrying over, pulling out his fire rods. "Banner, charge me up--we'll have to cauterize as soon as its off."

Steve swallowed hard. "It's gonna be all right." He held the axe, took a stiff breath and brought it down, slamming into the black hide.

Bucky hiccuped, his eyes glued onto Steve's. "Steve--"

"No!" Loki smashed his boot into the carriage door, staggered out with his hands still cuffed. "No, don't--!"

As the axe came down there was an almighty flash of power, a rush of force that radiated outwards from Bucky. The force of the cold blast flung them all backwards and Bucky screamed in the epicentre.

It was like a vacuum of air. Steve's shield came up automatically. It smashed him back several feet but then he was up again, crouched behind the shield. He made it back to Bucky, grabbed his axe to go again.

"Oh hell!" Natasha gasped. "Steve, stop!"

Bruce threw out a magical shield, trying to protect all of them.

"Steve--" Bucky choked and rolled over onto his left side, blocking the arm. "No, no, don't! No, stop!" The ground was iced up under him. "S-stop..."

Steve's gaze, something was hard there. Something close to madness, desperation. He could feel the drums in his temples. This was the thing that caused Bucky so much pain. The symbol of what had taken Bucky from him. This horrible arm--this--

He raised the axe, brought it down--

Thor grabbed him from behind, yanking him back, throwing him to the ground. "Get ahold of yourself, Rogers!"

Steve rolled back up, flashing to Thor, smashing with his axe. Thor blocked with the hammer and backhanded the Captain.

Steve whipped aside, drew the second axe, smashing, meeting the head of the hammer and shaft of the grip. "Get out of the way, Thor!"

"No--you cannot do this here! You fool, his arm is part of Hydra!"

"I'll get rid of--root it out--fucking Hydra! Hydra is the whole reason for all of this!" Steve dodged around Thor, readying the axe, going at Bucky--

Loki slid in, standing in front of Bucky's. He held up his chained hands plaintively. "You cannot do this here, Rogers! One of you grab the fool!"

Tony and Thor both grabbed onto Rogers, who appeared to be fighting something across his face. Something like pain.

Natasha came running down the hill and leapt onto Steve's back like a cat, her arms locked around his neck and her mouth by his ear, whispered, "I know, I know, Steve! Please, you have to listen to us! We want to help, we will get it off him but not here, not like this. Not like this."

His big chest heaved. Tony, Thor holding onto him, Natasha on his back. He shuddered, the three of them took him to ground. He shuddered again. "I...Bucky...." He grit his teeth. Wanted to burst out--scream, cry--scream, scream, roar--to all the injustice and rage and helplessness.

On the ground, Bucky whimpered, hugging his side. His face was wet and broken, the Soldier's mask broken for who knew how long.

Loki maneuvered over. "Polerion--Polerion---" He rolled his wrists as best he could, trying to place them on the black hide, sparking and crackling. " _Hydra...Ashev, Hydra. Lafetin fafelini marlaturala possessalural_."

Bruce looked at Loki, tensing, raising his arm. _Old Consarian._ He had never heard it spoken before but he recognized the words from the Hydra cave.

 _The Dark of the Frost takes those who look._ Old Consarian was an agglomerated language, using case endings to indicate pronouns and direct objects.

Loki bit into his palm, spitting out a chunk of flesh and pressing the blood into the arm, watching it drink, absorb his sacrifice. " _Ashev, Hydra. Lafetatin Dakurtatin, Yaleshin Icelin Ateen'a poeloyatin. Cha-yum talovinin, halemin, fal iceliatin govur._ "

Bruce walked away from Steve and the others. _Hail Hydra. Prince of the Darkness, I am servant to the God of the Eternal Snow. Accept my sacrifice, blood and magic._

The hide curled like a black spine, a stomach, a thriving and living muscle. The wound from the axe healed over on Loki's blood.

Bruce stared at it, watching. Repulsion, nausea, horror--what he felt when he looked in the mirror at his own attempted transformation. Bruce got on one knee by Loki, watching Loki _feed_ the arm with his blood.

He felt the keening inside of him, the longing that was always there. To transform and be that hideous blood beast. That taste of coppery blood in his--

Loki was staring at him.

Bruce pulled back, looking away, breaking eye contact.

Loki's eyes narrowed. "Want to give it a go? Give yourself up to Hydra?"

"No," Bruce answered, scowling at him.

"Then go make yourself busy controlling your captain."

Bruce looked at Loki, then at the Soldier. "I've never heard Old Consarian spoken before."

"Well, I suppose that means one of you isn't entirely stupid. He speaks it as well." He nodded down at the Soldier. " My father used it for his inner council to discourage leaks of information."

"Not a bad precaution."

"Yes, if only because I told him to do it. He's not very bright, over all. None of the Frost Giants are, really."

"What about you?"

"Well, apparently I am not a Frost Giant. So I suppose I can be stupid by someone else's standards."

"Culturally, you are though--a Frost Giant, I mean."

Loki did a slight-take. He glared at him. "There would be many who would disagree. As Stark said, I'm rather short for a Giant."

Bruce shrugged. "I find that when I transform, no one argues."

Loki seemed to examine him again, looking a little more intrigued.

Bruce looked over, where Thor still had ahold of Steve and Natasha was talking to him in a low murmur. "You know, Loki--if you give them a chance, they'll help you. Thor is a good man. Steve is a good man. Steve will go to the ends of the earth if he believes this Soldier is James Barnes, which he does, completely. Thor would do the same--if you would let him."

Loki frowned and looked away. "Let them prove their lies to me first."

Bruce nodded. "That's fair."

Loki looked sidelong at him.

"What?" Bruce shrugged. "Everyone has lied to you, right?"

Loki tongued his cheek. "Yes...." he said slowly, looking a little surprised.

"Then it makes sense. Ha, you look like you think I should be worried. I'm not. Thor will prove it to you. You don't understand what finding you means to him."

Loki started noticeably and looked back to the soldier. "Leave me alone."

Bruce didn't leave but he did go quiet, just watching the Soldier and his blood-smeared arm. Like a child after eating raspberry pies. A lion after devouring a baby gazelle. The cannibal tribes of Nat'lon, red red blood on their lips, smiling as they watched a ship of traders heading unknowingly to their ports. The men were still alive when they cut them up. Skinned them for leathers. The women would be ritually eaten, sexually devoured first, then physically.

_Coppery tang of blood--_

Bruce shook himself.

_..takes those who Look..._

Heat flushed up into his face. The urge to make the change.

He closed his eyes so not to see it.

The darkness behind his eyes was soothing. Now he could hear Steve calming himself. Hear Thor whispering urgently to Tony. Natasha shifting, her leathers grinding on buckles.

Blessed darkness.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The language of Old Consarian is something I wrote up myself. So any similarities to words of other languages is entirely unintentional. My background in languages is pretty varied. I studied Japanese and Latin in high school. In college I dabbled in German, French and Arabic. And then in the military, I learned Turkish at the military language academy. And so Turkish pretty much blew away everything else I'd learned because the language academy was crazy intense. Hahaha.
> 
> But since I am most familiar with English, Turkish and Japanese...I thought it'd be fun to build my own language. Consarian uses an agglomerated grammar system--which means that, where in English ALL our pronouns are separate words and are always used---agglomerated grammar systems use 'endings' to indicate pronouns, and also tenses. 
> 
> For example, in Turkish:  
> bak[mak] = to look  
> bakıyorum = I am looking (present progressive: I)  
> bakarım= I look (present test: I)  
> baktim = I looked (past tense: I)
> 
> bina = building  
> to/at = a/ya [depending on vowels used and if a consonant ends the word stem]
> 
> So, binaya = at/to the building
> 
> So: I looked to the building : Binaya (to the building) baktım (I looked)
> 
> Or: I looked at Thor : Thor'a [at Thor] baktım [I looked]. 
> 
>  
> 
> This is the base for which I constructed Old Cansarian's system--though I did change some things.
> 
>  
> 
> Hail Hydra, the Dark of the Frost takes Those who Look.  
> Ashev, Hydra. Lafetin fafelini [the Dark's Frost] marlaturala [those who look] possessalural [it {implied pronoun for the Frost} takes] . 
> 
> Ashev - Hail  
> lafe(t-in) (the dark of/ the dark's; t-used as the previous letter is a vowel, 'in' indicates the possession)  
> fafel(in)[i] [frost, ending to match possessing noun [in], and 'i' to indicate that the Dark of the Frost is the one doing the taking]
> 
> Marlatur = To look  
> Marlatural = [all singular subjects; one who looks]  
> marlaturala = [all plural subjects: those who look 
> 
> possessalur = to take  
> possessalural = singular subjects; it takes  
> possessalurala = plural subjects; they take
> 
>  
> 
> Ashev, Hydra. Lafetatin Dakurtatin [Darkness's Prince], Yaleshin Icelin [Eternal Snow; matching possessive ending (in)] Ateen'a (to the God : indicated by the 'a', used to replace certain prepositions] poeloyatin [implied pronoun 'I': I am a servant]. Cha-yum (my; used for emphasis) talovinin, halemin, iceliatin [my sacrifice, my blood, my magic] govur (command form: Accept). 
> 
> Hail, Hydra. Prince of the Darkness, I am servant to the God of the Eternal Snow. Accept my sacrifice, blood and magic.
> 
> Cha-yum = my, used for emphasis  
> Lafea = darkness  
> Prince = Dakurta  
> servant = poeloya  
> God = Ateen  
> eternal = yalesh  
> snow = icel  
> to accept = Gov-ur (dictionary and command form)  
> sacrifice = talovin [lit. my heart]  
> blood = halem  
> magic = icelia  
> fal = and


	6. Shield-Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve/Thor

Loki leaned up. "If you all can be spared!" He said, pointedly.

Thor let go of Steve, walking over to the two. He lifted the Soldier first and put him back in the carriage. "Rest, now, friend of Rogers. Soon we will be in the Capital." He turned back, lifted Loki. "Thank you for your assistance."

"It certainly wasn't for any of you. It's nearly night--the wolves will be on us with all this racket."

Thor shrugged, pushing Loki back into the carriage.

Steve got up, pulling away from Tony and Natasha. "Go on ahead, I'll catch up."

"Steve?" Bucky looked back as he was put inside. His gaze turned to Loki, silently questioning.

Loki shook his head. " _Talur, Polerion._ " _Sleep, Polerion._ He said quietly. "Get some rest. He will rejoin us, no doubt." Loki shrugged off his cloak and dumped it on the Soldier. His hands still cuffed and uncomfortable.

He shuddered, lying down on the seat, shivering and tasting the bile that tainted his mouth. Exhaustion soon caught up with him.

"I will stay with him," Thor told them, touching the shaft of his hammer.

Natasha looked at Thor and nodded, "As you wish, highness. Don't tarry long, there are wolves here."

Thor looked back at the Captain. "We will catch up. Go, my friends."

Stark hopped back up, tossing Thor one of his fire rods. "Makes a fire faster."

Tony drove quick--they were only a few hours from the Capital.

 

 

 

Steve crossed his thick arms over his knees. Thor came, sitting heavily beside him. “Stark will be moving the carriage onward.”

“Good,” Steve murmured.

“He will be all right. Loki healed his wound.”

Steve glanced sidelong at him, then away.

“You were doing what you thought was right,” Thor said softly.

Steve looked down. “You…are different from the others. I mean—you’ve commanded men before. Bucky has—I mean, before. And I have…so you understand the responsibility of trust. He trusted me to help him…and I almost cut his arm off in the middle of the woods.”

“Desperation can drive us to desperate choices, my friend.” Thor put a palm on his shoulder. “He was your shield-brother, wasn’t he—and perhaps more than that?”

Steve tensed, looked sidelong at him, eyes widening a little.

“I have seen the ugliness of war and death. Any shred of comfort is a shred I freely give to others and those I command.” He looked over the river. “Those who would disdain you, are those who have not seen true horror. However you feel about your friend—that is not my business. But know that I am here to assist you.”

Steve turned more fully to face him. “….thank you, Thor.”

Thor carefully removed his hammer from his belt, laying it on his other side. “You cannot relax, can you? You will feel guilt whether we tell you to or not—because he is your brother, your friend and you love him. But if that guilt consumes you, you cannot do anything. Could you sleep? I would stay on watch until morning.”

“I can’t sleep,” Steve frowned out at the river.

“Then I will assist you.”

The big man leaned in—he and Thor were nearly the same height, similar builds too. Muscular and strong, but even the punch Thor laid on him almost took him to the dirt. The prince was on him in a flash, hauling back his fist to punch again.

Steve recoiled and then jerked forward. He grabbed into Thor’s armor and shoved him back, scuffling. He punched the prince. Thor’s tongue slid out, skimming over the blood and tasting it. He smirked. The hammer flew into his fist and both men jumped up. Steve took out his axes. He moved light on his feet—like that skinny lad he’d once been. He dodged around Thor, smashing the grip of his axe into Thor’s nose—

_Thor could take it._

\--which only made the prince laugh. Steve whipped up, calves wrapping around Thor’s head and slammed the prince into the ground. Thor punched his ribs—making him grit his teeth, grunting. They flipped away from each other.

Thor threw the hammer at him.

Steve wasn’t sure what made him do it—but he dropped one axe and snatched the hammer from the air.

Thor stopped dead in his tracks. He stared stupidly at Steve, blinking. Steve looked at it too and then back at Thor. “I thought no one could lift this.”

Thor looked over him. “I suppose I should have guessed. It makes sense that you can—those worthy of it may lift the hammer.” He walked up to Steve, reaching out. His hand covered the Captain’s. “It anyone could lift it besides me—it makes sense that it would be you.”

Steve looked up at him. “I—“

Thor grabbed into a leather strap, jerked him forward. Their mouths met, rough and unyielding. Steve dropped the hammer. His other axe fell to the dirt. Thor was looking right into his eyes—the same expression he wore when he was fighting. He jerked the leather strap of Steve’s armor free, shoving it off his shoulder.

Steve hesitated.

The other strap followed. There was nothing gentle about Thor’s movements. The Asgardian Prince was a juggernaut and he showed Steve no mercy. He loosened the straps and grabbed him, biting his fingers into Steve’s bared shoulder. He shook him hard.

Steve folded his fingers, slammed the meat of his palm into Thor’s chest. The man’s back hit a tree and Steve grabbed the prince, yanking the plate off of him. His hands slid over his chest. He glared at Thor—who promptly punched him. Steve’s face jerked. Thor grabbed him by the hair, slammed him into the ground and straddled his thigh.

Steve’s hands braced into the dirt, pushing up. He even got them raised, his own weight and Thor’s—until the prince bashed his elbow—and Steve collapsed on his front. He tried to roll over—Thor shifted, grabbed the Captain and yanked him back to him. His fingers curled in Steve’s thick, short hair, pushing him back to the ground. And then Thor’s chest against his spine. His free hand grabbed Steve’s ribs, down and in—into his trousers, roughly grabbing his cock and stroking. Swift, hard, thorough strokes. He felt Steve shudder with surprise, grit his teeth to contain any sound. His elbow sent Thor flying flat on his back. Steve moved—Thor didn’t see him move—but he was just _there_ suddenly. He grabbed Thor by the throat, pinning him to the ground. The prince saw a myriad of little emotions, nuances of pain, anger, regret, resentment flashing through his eyes, across his face. His eyes widening, nostrils flaring and his teeth gritting hard. And then their mouths met again, biting, raking grooves in chapped lips. Thor felt Steve’s grip—large, clumsy, uncertain, grab into his cock, stroke it. His breath grazed through his teeth. He jerked Steve’s head by his hair and bit his throat. The Captain's fist tightened so hard Thor got black spots across his vision. He backhanded the Captain—who rolled off him and Thor grabbed him again, pulling him back to Thor’s chest. Only for Steve to twist in his grip. They faced each other—mouths clashed, fists grabbing into each other, stroking, stroking hard and fast and certain, swallowing a grunt, a shudder of breath, a soft grunt--

Steve stiffened up first, Thor followed a few strokes later. Their mouths stayed together, breathing into each other.

“…the magic?” Thor murmured softly.

“Yeah…” 

Thor didn’t say anything. He rolled Steve onto his front again. Steve couldn’t see what Thor was doing—but he couldn’t think of anything else—his mind emptied, focusing only on this. The strangeness, the touch. Everything had been biting and rough—but now became gentler as Thor grabbed his thigh, moved it aside and slid fingers up into him. The Captain froze, fingers thick and strange, searching and finding _something_ that made him jerk.

Moments of this. Soft, wet, heat inside of him—and then Thor pulling away, turning bare moments later—and pressing—

Steve jerked again, eyes rolling back. It was obliterating feeling, thought. Mind emptying in a fantastic rush, night sky, desert sun, hard fights—heat—blood. Felt Thor press up against him, bite his shoulder, bruise his hips.

_He could take it._

Wanted to.

His knees were on rocks—he didn’t notice. Thor hit _that_ spot in him again—which make him gasp out a groan—Thor shifted, lifted one of his thighs, hit that spot over and over again. And then that hot, rough palm around his cock again—

He came and Thor followed him.

 

They cleaned up in the river, dressed quietly. Steve looked at him, uncertainly. “Thor, I—“

Thor shook his head. “You are my shield-brother. That is all.”

Steve looked at the water, then back at him. “Yes.”

Steve and Thor did not return until after the others had reached the city. The capital was a glimmering pearl of gold light.

Loki stared out the windows. He had never seen the Capital, only heard about it. Well, not the ruin Laufey said, after all. In fact, it look entirely untouched by war at all.

Stark did not want to enter the city until Thor arrived--just in case Loki decided to make a break for it.

They made camp right outside. Clint traded some apples for meat with a group of caravaneers and they ate a thick stew. Some time after midnight--Thor and Steve arrived.

Clint started a little. "Is he using your hammer?"

Thor smiled. "Strange, isn't it--I prompted the Captain to fight--to help ease his anxiety. And found that he can lift it. I will teach him how to use it. It may be useful some time."

Steve spun the hammer and handed it back. "That flying is something else, Thor." The warriors smiled at each other and then Steve went to the carriage. "Buck? Is he awake?"

"He's awake." Natasha said, nodding to the carriage window.

The moment Steve had come into the camp the Soldier had sat up, his face turned to the window. Now that the captain came closer he moved to the locked door, "You left."

He opened the door. "I came back." He smiled.

"... you did," he agreed after a moment, nodding to himself.

"C'mon. Time for you to see Asgard." He turned to glance at Thor. Steve got into the carriage. "I'll sit in here with you guys. Seems cozy, you know?" The Soldier sat beside Steve and shied away from the windows as the crowd grew, the voices so loud and so joyous. It only made him huddle tighter.

Thor led the way into the city. A bell sounded to mark his return and the streets cleared for him.

Loki stared out. It was so apparent how much the people loved Thor. And that included anyone with him. Barton looked shy, suddenly. The expression looked foreign as the archer got whistled at by children, given flowers and chaste kisses from ladies. A girl wrapping the stem of a sunflower on his bow and then vanished into the crowd.

Young women rallied to Natasha, chattering with her, talking about new weapons they were trying. Men attempted to saunter casually near her, wanting to bestow a flower or a dagger of pure Asgardian silver.

Stark seemed to ignore all the catcalling to him. He seemed strangely unaffected by it.

Even quiet, awkward Bruce--women approached him, asking for magework or blessings. A kiss for their cheeks.

The people stayed on the sides, letting their group pass. Loki sat against the wall of the carriage, as if silently trying to draw away from the crowds, like Bucky.

 

 

The palace grounds were empty and gated off, quiet in the lovely dimness of night. Lanterns lit the area and Odin came out to meet them.

It took soothing words and Steve's gentle touch on his elbow to draw Bucky out into the courtyard.

Odin came, not in his full kingly regalia, down to meet them, leaning on his staff tiredly. "You have returned."

Thor came forward. "Father..." he said. "I have brought Loki. You must examine him--we must know if he is my brother."

"I rejoice at your success." Odin touched his shoulder gently, "And thank you all for your valour." His eyes rested on the unfamiliar dark haired man. "Loki." The old king approached him slowly. "I am Odin Allfather."

Loki's manacles clinked. It was loud in the courtyard as he stepped back, warily. "I've heard of you."

"Years ago, during the final days of the war between Asgard and the Frost Giants, my secondborn son was stolen from his cradle. We searched in vain for years of what had become of him." Odin said, his voice very soft. "You bear his name."

"And you bear the name of one who butchered men, women and children to take over Nine Realms."

"Laufey's words come from your lips." He shook his head. "War is a terrible thing, and each side commits horrors."

"So I've heard. So I've seen." His skin rippled, blue for a moment and then back to that flesh color, matching a shade lighter to Thor.

"Where is Mother? She always said that Loki would be strong in her magic."

"She waits for us inside. She has been seeing to the preparation of quarters in anticipation of your arrival." He looked pained for a moment at Loki's display. "We will talk more inside."

He moved then to Steve, gazing at the Soldier slightly behind him. "This man is who you believed him to be?"

Steve nodded. "This is James Barnes, my friend--taken and tortured by Hydra and his followers."

"Does he know you?"

Steve's mouth opened to answer and then closed. He looked at Bucky and then back at the king. "No...not yet. He knows that...he remembers me. But he's not sure why or how....there is...much he doesn't remember or know..."

"I see. We will try to help him but until then he must be kept under secure conditions, Captain. He is too much a danger still for me to allow him free access about my city."

"He'll stay with me," Steve said. "I won't leave him alone and I won't have him locked up in some cell. He'll stay with me."

Odin seemed to consider for a moment. "There will be a magical tracker placed on him, this is my condition for your request to be met."

"What kind of tracker?" Steve asked.

"A simple spell, there will be no physical discomfort or sign of it. It will allow the mage who casts it to check his location at any time."

"....fine," Steve allowed. "But that's all. You will not cause him any pain."

"Very well." He turned to Bucky with his staff and the Soldier watched him warily as he lifted it.

The old king closed his eyes and there was a faint glow around the head of the staff and the Soldier both, fading seconds later. "It is done."

Steve touched Buck's arm. "You all right?"

"I didn't feel anything." he told him, blinking.

He nodded to Odin. "Thanks. Is there a place we can go now to rest? I imagine you're about to have your hands full." He nodded to where Thor and Loki had gone inside to meet Frigga.

Odin nodded, "The servants will take you. You are all of you dismissed." He waved to the group and then headed inside.

 

 

 

Thor went to Loki's right side. "Come, meet our mother. She will know."

Their mother was a shield-maiden. She had Thor's sparkling blond hair but Loki's green eyes. She kept trying to busy herself. As soon as she heard the bells, she could not keep still. She stood in pale silver, wringing her hands when Thor opened the door. She whirled around instantly, hurrying to them. And then stopped. He looked just like her visions. Just like them. "Oh..." she said softly, her hands coming to her mouth. "Loki..."

Loki flinched back from her expression--the need, the desperation, the _love_ \--but she approached anyway, grabbing first his hands and then, with a gasp, the manacles. "Please--no..." She flicked two fingers and the spelled metal unlocked, falling with a thump to the ground. "Loki, you are Loki..." Her grandfather had been notorious for his dark hair--for it was so rare among Asgardians. Her magic spidered through her fingers, her touch, into his skin.

His skin rippled again but this time, he lost control of it--he flicked through different shades and then back to the original--the same one from his fight with Thor. Warm, smooth--but pale beige. Her magic felt amazing, comforting, warm and cozy. Fitting together like puzzle pieces. A key to a lock. A sword and a shield.

_Mother..._

Loki stared at her, a trembling took root deep inside of him. _Oh God...she really is...they really are..._

Thor raised a hand but did not touch either of them, watching how his mother broke the walls down with just a touch, a whisper of her magic, meeting Loki's. Twining in their familiarity. Watched Loki's eyes widen, breath choking, going pale.

His mother made a soft sound, grabbing Loki to her. He was not so big as Thor, but he still towered over her. He stared down into her golden hair, looking bewildered, overwhelmed, hand carefully lighting on her back.


	7. Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve/Bucky
> 
> Winter Soldier fights nightmares and Loki gets all weirded out

A servant led Steve and Bucky to quarters on the second floor. A huge fireplace took up part of one wall. The rest armor stands, weapons equipment, maintenance and repair. Clothes for them to wear for bed and leisure.

Water was pumped into the palace and a maid was just getting two tubs full of hot, steaming water and lemon soap ready in the connected room. She excused herself quietly.

Bucky kept close at Steve's heels, eye darting at everyone and everything, trying to catalogue threats.

In the room, Bucky paced the around the walls, peering at them and at the window stopped for a moment, grimacing at how big and vulnerable they were.

"It's all right, Buck, this place is well-protected. C'mon, bath time. We smell like old bacon and rotting fruit."

He led Bucky into the attached wet room. "Pick a bath, my friend." Steve sat on a bench to remove his boots. As Buck's body armor was locked up--the clothes Bruce had given Bucky were just normal, every day linens, easy to remove. Steve was still wearing his medium-grade gear and set about removing it.

With a final distrustful look at the window the Soldier heeled to Steve's words, approaching the baths and taking the one furthest from the door. He methodically stripped down, dropping the clothing on the floor with no hint of shame before turning his head, watching as Steve also stripped. "... help?"

Steve looked at Bucky. "Er, well--if you want. Do you remember how?"

"Yes."

Steve set his boots aside, standing up and tilting his head to grab the knots. "If you're cold--don't worry about it--I'm used to it. You don't have to."

Bucky walked up behind Steve and brushed his hands away. This armour, he knew it. His fingers traced over the grooves before finding the knots, fingers steadily untying the knots for him, catching the plate as it came loose and setting it on the floor with far more care than he had taken for his clothing.

He had to turn around, which was somehow more daunting than it should have been. Steve wasn't shy about nakedness, exactly. Fighters got over that quick enough--and he hadn't felt nervous--until Bucky was suddenly right in front of him. As if he'd forgotten that Bucky had already undressed. His throat tightened and glanced aside. Could smell that spice that always lingered on Bucky. He felt his friend's hands, sliding over his body armor. "We'll...uh, we'll get you your...armor back," Steve attempted to converse and then shut his mouth, hearing how suddenly quiet it sounded. He coughed into his shoulder to try and disguise it.

"I don't want that armour," he replied after a moment, eyes running down over Steve's body of their own accord. Strong, powerful, without a scar to be seen. Familiar.

"I can have you some made, if you want..." he murmured. He kept his eyes pointed to the side. He looked down, busying his hands removing one of his gauntlets.

He shrugged noncommittally, brushing Steve's hands away again. "What is this?" he asked. His thumbs examined one of the bruises on his ribs.

"Thor--ah--he helped me....fight. Sparring."

Bucky looked at him for a long moment and then continued with his armor until every last piece of plate metal had been removed and neatly stacked.

Seventy years ago, James Barnes did this for his friend each night. His fingers know where to go, what order to do it in without thinking, muscle memory carrying an old tune perfectly.

Steve didn't realize he'd closed his eyes, but he did, immersed in the touch. Seventy years in the past, two friends--two men--torn apart by war, put back together with violence. Steve had been gentle--but not anymore and each death showed in his eyes. Bucky had been the one to lead him back, help him remember what they fought for.

Then Bucky was lost....and yet here they stood again, on the brink of a second war. Bucky's rough fingers removing his light plate, brushing his own hands away so Bucky could remove the gauntlet. Then the linen shirt, then going to Steve's belt--

His eyes opened, stepped back. "I...uh--I--I'm sorry, Bucky. Uh. I forgot where I was...uh--you, uh--you don't have to..."

"I did this before." His eyes looked into Steve's, though he didn't step after him. "I did this for you."

"You did many things for me...but...I want you to be able to make your own choices. I mean--"

_Steve, he doesn't know about that..._

"--I mean, not that removing armor is a big deal. It's not. I just..." He swallowed hard. "I just...you know--don't want to make you uncomfortable." He felt his cock twitch and ran his hand through his hair. "Uh--I could go and, uh--sit out in the room. So you can bathe--have some privacy...uh. And then I can bathe...after..."

"I'm not uncomfortable." Bucky said, "It will be cold if you do that. So stay," and stepped forward to continue what he was doing.

Steve shuddered. "Buck..." he murmured. He wanted to step back, should have. But didn't. He felt his face flush hot with shame.

"What were we to each other?" he asked, Steve's trousers easily undone, pushed downwards. "Why are you acting this way?"

Steve's hands went ice cold, a tremor jolted his stomach. "I...we...uh." He breathed in through his nose. "We...were close. But..."

"What?" he asked him, lingering to near.

Steve swallowed hard. "Bucky..." He looked down--had to step out of his trousers if he wanted to move away. And he didn't want to. Oh God, he didn't want to. "We were....together...um, more than...than shield-brothers..." He reached over to grab his clothes, holding them to his chest. "I...I'll go. I didn't mean to..." he shook his head and finally just went quiet. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry Bucky..."

"Don't go," he said softly, his human hand touched Steve's shoulder. 

Steve hesitated. "Buck...I...are you...." He looked at him, reached up and touched his hand. "I know you don't remember it--I'm not trying to be weird..."

"You said we were close." he moved closer, his face inches away from Steve's, looking up at him. "You said... I can't remember, but I want..."

"We were...we were very close...." He swallowed, taking a deep breath. "I don't want to...to...I mean...I want to--but--but I want you to make your own choices..."

"I want to know," Bucky told him, "I want to know what we were, why you make me feel this way."

Steve turned to look at him more fully. "....how do I make you feel?"

"Like... like I'm not... I shouldn't feel anything. But you... I feel warm, I feel like... I know you."

Steve nodded. "You do...you did once....we helped keep each other stay warm seventy years ago....every night...we...you. You helped me remove my armor. And I helped you with yours."

"I feel safe with you," he said helplessly. "I knew... everything they made me but I see you and I can't..." Bucky wrapped his human arm around Steve, their bodies pressing together. The long heat of Steve's cock pressed against the assassin's hip.

A shudder jerked up Steve's hip, into his spine. "B-Bucky..." he breathed, hands going automatically to his hips, his spine--finally pulling him in, crushing Bucky to him. "Bucky..."

He shuddered as they pressed together. Some long dormant spark ignited in him, Bucky felt his own cock twitch in response.

Steve's hands drug down his spine, pressed him against the wall. "Bucky... I missed you... Bucky..."

"Steve," he shuddered, "Steve..." his fingers ran down Steve's back, the left arm kept firmly pressed away against the wall. He was warm, he was so warm.

Steve swallowed. "Bucky..." he breathed in his exhale--and then finally couldn't stand it, pressing their mouths together hard.

Bucky gasped then, his body arched and his mouth pressed back hard against the taller man's. A burst of instinct and recognition that flared and overtook him.

He ground up against him, hands down at Bucky's hips. "Buck...ah..." He kissed him harder, moving down to Bucky's throat. "Oh...Buck...."

 A whimper, his mouth parted submissively under Steve, hips moving back of their own accord. Bucky felt heat and blood rush downwards, his cock hardening rapidly as his head tilted back to offer Steve his neck.

Steve sucked on his throat, kissing down to his shoulder, nibbling. He pulled Bucky to him, picked him up and put him in one of the tubs. He followed, sliding hands over Buck, soaking and cleaning his skin.

The hot water soaked around him, he scrabbled to remember to keep the left arm away from it as Steve rapidly distracted him from thinking. "Steve... ah..."

Steve pinned him against the wall of the tub. hands going under his ribs. "Gotta clean you up..." he murmured, rubbing soap into his hair, kissing his ear, his cheek, his mouth.

"I need..." he shuddered and kissed him back, mouth pressed hot and flush together. Bucky shivered under his hands, muscles twitching as he registered that he knew this, knew these touches running familiar patterns.

And then Steve got him out, staggering into the bedroom. He drumped Bucky on the bed and climbed up after him.

Bucky's chest was heaving at this point, not from exertion but -- but something, he wanted... his right hand seized Steve by the back of his neck, pulling him down for a hungry kiss and rolling his hips up against Steve's needily.

Steve groaned, grinding, panting. His fist slid down, grabbing his cock to stroke.

"Fuck... fuck..." he whimpered, moving his right hand down, fumbling to do the same thing for Steve. It felt so good, uncomfortably good. A hot twisting feeling building within him.

Steve moaned. "Buck, Bucky...I missed you so much..." He stroked him, just the way he remembered Bucky liking it

His body remembered what his mind had forgotten, Steve's smell, Steve's touch. The way those big hands felt on him, engulfing his cock and grasping his hip, holding him effortlessly still. Once Steve had been so small so... and then, then... Bucky knew he liked it when Steve dominated him, even when he was a skinny rake.

A moan escaped him, the claws of the left hand tore into the sheets and mattress as he tried to move. "Steve!" he couldn't hold himself, couldn't stop himself from coming over Steve's hand.

"Oh Buck. That's good. That's so good." He groaned, kissed him hard.

"It is?" he looked up at him, wide eyed and needy, reeling from the feeling of his orgasm. His own hand still on Steve's dick, stroking steadily. "Steve... mm!"

"Yeah, oh, oh Buck--" he came, moaning.

Bucky shuddered when he felt it, his hand slowed, stopped... panting and looking up at Steve, like some golden Adonis. He looked beautiful like that, between the blonde hair and the blue blue eyes.

Steve panted, rubbing his cheek against Bucky. "Buck...."

He swallowed, he'd run out of words, just turned his head and tried to nuzzle back, gently letting go of Steve's cock.

He laid down next to him. "Are you okay?"

Bucky nodded, turning into Steve then, trying to cuddle up into his broad chest without letting the left arm touch him.

Steve pulled him in, embracing him. He combed fingers through Buck's hair. He kissed his forehead. "God Buck. You feel good..."

"Mmm." he snuggled in, pushing his head up against Steve's hand like a cat. Bucky felt so relaxed in this moment in a way he had never been before, lips curving into a unfamiliar expression as his eyes closed.

 

Steve was so silent. So against any noise at all. It was like Loki.

Loki…

 

 

 

Loki sitting by a hearth, watching the flames. He had been an extremely lonesome boy. And now as a young man, was still lonesome and prone to nightmares. He took solace in the Winter Soldier—the only one who was his stature, who did not sneer and jibe at him. Even if only because Loki was his handler—it was still yards better than dealing with his father. Loki’s cool composure could be exhausting. And the Winter Soldier was aware of it. He said nothing, of course, for that was not his place. But he could always sense the vibration under Loki’s cool mask. The thrum of violence just an armslength away. The tightened, sweating grip on his daggers or his glaive. Always prepared to defend himself against opponents two or three times his own size. He had speed, intellect and magic in spades and he always seemed to be waiting. Let them come. Let them come in the night. He would show them

Perhaps that was just an excuse. An excuse to defend himself by butchering every Giant he saw. The Soldier knew Loki would never express such a thing; he was no traitor. And it was apparent that Laufey had been pleased with Loki during his childhood, always assuming that he would grow later. But after puberty—when it became obvious that Loki was a _runt_ \--a _filoc_ \--and would have no more physical strength than a half-grown giant….his disappointment in Loki was tangible. Laufey had made no secret of it either. And his court followed suit.

Another disappointment after an exemplary mission. Shunted aside, per usual and then simply heading back to his quarters. The Winter Soldier had seen him leave, noted it and suffered the rest of Laufey’s commands from Hydra. And then he followed the Prince. It was not exactly a conscious decision. He and Loki often sat together after missions. He went upstairs, a guard in the hall let him in and left. After all, there was no better bodyguard than Hydra’s own Soldier.

The Soldier’s blue gaze took in the hearth, the windows ( _shut, to keep the cold out; locked, to keep everything else out_ ), the door to the wet room ( _ajar, a bath must be waiting_ ), a dark tray with some food on it ( _untouched; no indication of strange scent or discoloring of poison_ ). He knew his Prince had made a game of testing his own food and drink anyway—though Loki did not think anyone was aware of it and the Soldier did not tell him (because no one asked).

He stood there for a few silent minutes—hardly aware of passing time.

Loki suddenly started a little and stood. “Ah, Polerion. I apologize. I did not see you come in.”

( _Unusual_.) Prince Loki noticed almost everything. His eyes stayed, unwavering, on Loki’s face.

“Come,” said the prince, gesturing with his green sleeve. He walked to the ajar door and opened it into the wet room. Candles were lit; hot water was pumping into the tub. “Go ahead. You could use a bath.”

Bathes were something he and the Prince both found good. The Dark Arm did not like the heat but the rest of his body, untouched by the mighty Hydra, recoiled from the cold. He had more of everything else than he did one demon arm and so when the chance came that he could touch warmth, he took it.

“They want to put you back in stasis tomorrow,” Loki said, sitting quietly on a bench in the wet room. And then getting up to help the Soldier with his armor.

The Soldier did not react. He looked up, meeting Loki’s eyes and then stood there, still as a statue while the prince assisted him. After all, the Soldier did not have a squire or something. They did not trust him with any person outside of the king’s inner circle and no one else wanted to _lower_ themselves by serving a _runt_ \--even if he was touched by Hydra.

“I will cut your hair after your bath,” Loki told him.

The Soldier nodded silently. He thought it was rather pleasant—when dealing with Loki. He knew he had not had the thought before—it always felt new—and yet, somehow did not. The feeling wasn’t.

In the comforting bath, driving the cold away, cleaning up. And then Loki approached with scissors and a razor. He trimmed the Soldier’s ragged hair, shaved him clean and rinsed the blades in the water before gesturing for him to stand. He brought the Soldier a towel.

“Here,” said the Prince. “Take your time. I’m going to bed.”

Loki left the Soldier in the wet room—he could do what he liked. Loki was strange like that, always giving him _choices_. He could empty the tub and refill it if he wished. He could sit in the steam and heat all night, sweating out the discomfort and pain as his arm rejected the warmth. He could…

….he could get dressed, which he did. Loki had left him linens to sleep in. He drug them on. They had that same feeling that he got when dealing with Loki—familiar but not. New….yet old.

He took his weapons and washed his armor, repaired it. He took his time at it, stacking the pieces in a pattern that, sixty-five years ago, he would have found familiar. He went back into Loki’s chamber. The prince had given him no directive--often did not. But it was obvious to go and sit in an armchair by Loki’s bed, watching the prince sleep.

The Soldier almost never slept when out of freezing. Hydra did not seem to allow it—or maybe the Soldier didn’t want to. He wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. He would review mission details, glazing out—until he heard a sound. Instantly aware of the room, his eyes flicked—settling on the Prince’s face. The Soldier stood. The Prince’s face was twisted, teeth gritting, locked in the throes of a nightmare. That feeling again; new, and yet old.

The Soldier did not hesitate. He climbed onto the bed, grabbed the Prince and jerked him up. Loki was awake in a flash, one hand going to the fist at his collar, his other hand snatched the dagger he kept on him, slashing down. _Let them come!_

“Polerion…” Loki gasped, looking up too late—but seeing that the Soldier had blocked with the demon arm. “What is—“

“Nightmare,” The Winter Soldier informed him.

Loki sunk back down, one hand on the dark arm. Loki had not let him go and so the Winter Soldier did not move away. The prince breathed, swallowing and pushed himself to sit up. “I’m sorry, Polerion. Thank you—for waking me.”

“After stasis tomorrow, I will not remember _Polerion_ the next time I wake.”

Loki did a double-take, eyes sharpening. “….no. You won’t.”

“Every time I am brought back…you give me that name again.”

“Yes…” Loki said quietly. “I do.”

The Winter Soldier examined him with that cold, penetrating gaze.

Loki looked back.

The Soldier got up and sat back in the chair.

Loki sunk back into the pillow. He turned on his side, curling up tightly.

Polerion looked at him for a long, long time. He got up, paced the room, checked the hallways. When he re-entered the room, his head spun. The Winter Soldier grabbed onto the wall. The room felt different, everything was different, a boy was in bed—a little blond slip of a boy. Another _runt_. The Soldier staggered to him.

“You…you…punk,” he murmured. And then laid down with him. Protect him from the cold.

 

 

He awoke abruptly, found Loki staring at him in stunned silence. Training made him keep still—except for his eyes, which went down and up. He had an arm around the prince, holding him close. They were both pleasantly warm.

“Polerion,” Loki said slowly, carefully. “Do you know where you are?”

The Soldier looked into his face. “Yes,” he said quietly.

“Do you remember how you got here?”

The Soldier looked at Loki and could not—just a vague image of another boy in another bed in another room. “….no.”

Loki nodded. “It’s all right, Polerion. You protected me from the bitter cold. You’ve done well. Thank you.”

The Soldier sat up, moved automatically off the bed to stand beside it.

Loki got up, looking away from him and dressed. If he was off-footed ( _which he was_ ) he did not openly show it.

 

 

Bucky slept too, light and a little fitful but better than he had out of the ice for a long time. He was still there when Steve would awaken, obediently staying within the warm safe circle of his arms, studying the other man's face.

Steve awoke, arm wrapped around him. "Hey, Buck..." he said gently and kissed him, hand already drifted, relearning his musculature.

Bucky nodded. "Steve. You remind me of Loki sometimes."


	8. Taking Those Who Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My computer crashed a few days ago and I lost everything I was working on. So let me just recover. All my chapter notes, explanations, plot ideas--everything is gone.

Loki sat back in his seat, watching Frigga and Thor. His connection to his….to the queen’s magic had confirmed—he truly was _her_ son. _Odin’s_ son. Brother of Thor…prince of Asgard…

_My life has been a lie._

All of it. His reasons for killing, his reasons for being kept alive…all of it. Of course the inner council hated him—he wasn’t a Frost Giant. He would never be king of Jotunheim.

So…why take him at all—if Laufey would have never let an Asgardian sit on the throne—which he wouldn’t have—why take Loki at all. What was the point? What was the purpose?

“He must have had some reason,” Thor said, looking at his mother. “Not just to hurt us…but something else.”

“It couldn’t be the Red Skull—that wasn’t us—that was Captain Rogers.” Frigga mused.

“There are a lot of reasons for…Laufey to hate Asgard,” Thor said, getting up to examine the map of the Nine Realms. “To use against us—would make the most sense. Though…taking Loki as a baby…there’s no guarantee that we would have recognized him. The only one who would have for certain was you, Mother. Because of the magic.”

Frigga looked at Loki but her younger son was sitting by the window. His chin was in his hand. He stared out over the magnificence of Asgard, silent.

“Loki….do you have any idea why—“

“No,” Loki stood up. “I must speak to the Soldier.” He turned on his heel and started away.

“Loki—“

“The Allfather already put the tracking spell on me,” Loki said quietly. He didn’t look at her when he spoke, kept walking.

Frigga looked at Thor helplessly. Thor reached over, touching her shoulders, drawing her in to embrace her.

Loki went right to Steve’s quarters.

 

 

 

"I remind you of Loki?" Steve asked.

"....in some ways, yes."

“You and Loki…”

“No…I mean...not that I remember....” Bucky shook his head. “Just…you two are…like two sides of a coin. Just—opposite directions. Sometimes being with Loki—it was like being around you when you were…little. Always…trying to do things….even when others told you not to.”

Steve sat up, studying Bucky. “Really?”

Bucky sat up, rubbing his blackened arm.

“I…guess I would have thought I was….more like…Thor.”

“In some ways, I can see that,” Bucky said quietly. “But you call me ‘Bucky’, not James. Loki called me….Polerion. Not Winter Soldier.”

“Can you tell me about Loki?”

Bucky’s eyes flicked over to him, sitting up against the headboard. Back down to the blanket. “I remember bits and pieces—they all meld together after a while. I remember when he was brought back—“

“Were you in Asgard twenty-five years ag—?“

“No, that wasn’t my mission. King Laufey killed the guards, took the dark-haired baby. He returned to Jotunheim in the north. My mission—was the child. I was supposed to keep him safe—away from any Asgardians who might follow.” Bucky frowned deeply. “The next time I was awakened—Loki was about five. I was sent to take care of Stark.”

Steve tensed a little. “Howard?”

Bucky glanced at him, then down. “….yes. Howard Stark and Lady Maria.” He glanced towards the door. “The King told me to teach Loki to fight. I don’t remember a lot about that—I was…wiped so many times.”

“It’s all right….”

“I just remember doing it. I taught him to ride a horse and fight. I left him books to read. He was different from the Giants—a very quiet and solemn child. He was very lonesome. It makes sense now…why I wanted to….I mean—why I looked after him like I did. He reminded me of you when you were a kid. But I had no memory of that at the time…I guess maybe some things stick with you. The Giants didn’t like him, especially as their prince. More than once, I was dispatched to get rid of assassins.” Bucky drew a knee up to his elbow, resting his chin in his hand. “The next time I awoke….I…well, I don’t remember much—until Loki was twelve or so. That was the first time he was….told to go with me. I was told that he would grow to…be my handler.” His lips thinned, not liking that word. _Handler_.

“Buck…”

“S’fine,” he said, looking away. “He went on my mission with me. I had been directed to have him kill the…extras. I took the target. He was to take care of…family, staff, guards….I had to protect him. I…” he shook his head. “I don’t remember why. Something else--besides him being a prince. Something else. Laufey told me…he was important for something…” he looked down, racking his brains and then shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

“It’s all right. Maybe it will come to you later.”

He nodded. “Loki killed everyone, except the target. He did well—I mean—that’s what King Laufey wanted. He wanted a killer and he was afraid that Loki’s….size—made him soft and weak.”

“Did you go on other missions?”

“Yes…many. He learned fast—and by example. And his…affinity for magic was very obvious. When he was…twenty, I…had a memory after he awoke from a nightmare. I thought I had to protect him from the cold—but that was a memory with you. Not him. He wasn’t angry. I didn’t understand what had happened. He didn’t either—or at least, he didn’t say anything. He was strange like that—giving…choices and if I had memories—he never told anyone.”

Steve watched Bucky’s face, how it seemed to withdraw into memory, into a storm of scattered thoughts and fleeting moments of clarity. “Well, you should stay here. Stay here with Loki, with us—he’s your friend. Like me.”

_No. He is no longer an asset._

Bucky’s eyes ticked, head twitching from the thought. “Maybe…” He felt Steve’s hand slide up to his shoulders, his warmth envelop him. Buck’s head tilted aside, letting him in.

Letting him…

At the knock, Steve's fingers slowed, mouth stopped the slow ascent up his throat--he slid out of bed, dressing quickly. At the door, he paused. "Loki."

Loki stared up at the legendary Captain Rogers. "Where is the Winter Soldier?"

Bucky flinched and then sat up, the covers pooled around his waist as he looked at the door. He knew that voice. "Loki."

Loki...somehow had not expected...well, this. He blinked at him. "Uh. Get dressed, please, Polerion. I...need to ask you some questions."

Bucky turned his head, looked at Steve, then at Loki again. He did not have to obey Loki, he felt it would be better to get dressed though. He slipped out from under the sheet, unashamed--or perhaps more accurately having now awareness of his nakedness and its effect on others, as he picked up the clothing Steve had given him and pulled it on. "Questions?"

"Come with me--"

"No," Steve said, hackles already rising, bristling. "He's my responsibility. I can't let him out of sight--literally. I promised Odin."

Loki took a slow breath. "Fine." Loki led them to a small atrium in a high tower. "Mister....Barnes," he tried instead. "I need you to tell me why Laufey took me from Asgard."

He looked blankly at Loki when he asked, had slid further back into the Soldier's persona as they left the room and he was no longer alone with Steve.

Loki was expendable, Loki was no longer to be obeyed.

Bucky looked to Steve.

Loki caught that--Bucky looking to the Captain. The damn Captain. "Polerion," he said, more pointedly now. "I need you to tell me."

Steve looked at Bucky's blank face, then at Loki. "How do you even know that he'd know that?"

"I'm not asking you," he said sharply to Steve.

The Soldier said nothing in reply, standing in silence in the face of Loki's command. It had no effect, there was no compulsion to obey the prince's word, not anymore. Loki was no longer of concern to Hydra or Jotunheim.

Loki stared at him. "....Polerion?" he asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"Looks like he doesn't need to listen to you anymore."

Loki's mouth opened to snap at Steve and then closed, eyes going back to the Winter Soldier. He felt something snap apart. The Soldier had...always been the only person he might have ever considered a friend... "Soldier--Winter Soldier, James, whatever you want to be called," he said, more emphatically this time.

He was given nothing in return, except perhaps the small furrowing of the Soldier's brow, chasing echoes. Loki was no longer to be obeyed, he was to be removed should he prove a threat to the directive.

Loki gritted his teeth. He looked at the Soldier, then at the Captain. He stared at the two of them for a long moment, scowled, "Stay here then. With your Captain." And then he turned and walked away. Fine. He'd go back to Jotunheim himself. He'd ask Laufey himself. The Soldier had never actually been his friend--Loki was just his 'handler', after all. 

Loki stalked outside. His illusions shimmered around him, creating the appearance of a guard. He headed out of the palace.

 

 

 

"He was... upset," Bucky said in the moments after Loki had gone.

Steve felt a twinge of guilt. "I'm sorry...I...wanted to protect you. I...do you actually know why he was taken?"

He considered, "I -- I..." he swallowed. "He was... meant to be a... sacrifice."

Steve blinked. Hadn't _actually_ thought that Bucky knew. "A sacrifice? For what?"

"Hail Hydra," he mumbled, the words tumbled out of his mouth. He tried simply to say the name alone, couldn't.

Steve grabbed his shoulders, looking into his face. "What do you mean--what does that mean? A sacrifice to Hydra? What--Hydra taking sacrifices? When? Why?"

"I--I don't... I don't know." He looked frightened, "I can't -- the dark of the frost takes those who look."

Steve stared at him. "We have to tell Thor. Come." As they walked, Steve had a hand on his back. He entered the library--where Thor, Frigga and Odin were sitting together. "King Odin--Bucky might be able to tell you why Loki was taken...at least a clue, anyway."

But when Steve turned to look at his friend, his expression was withdrawn and dark. "Bucky," he said.

His friend said nothing, looked at the wall.

"Bucky!"

"Hail Hydra..." he murmured again, his eyes hollowed out.

"Bucky...?" He sighed. "He just said--he was meant as some kind of...sacrifice to Hydra."

King Odin gazed at Bucky. He stood slowly, walking over to the young man. “That’s where your arm comes from, isn’t it? Hydra.”

“Hydra,” Bucky repeated. “Hail Hydra.”

Odin reached out with his scepter, touching the arm—

“No, don’t--!” Steve started.

The reaction was instant—like it had been on the road. Thor grabbed his mother, whirling around to shield her with his body. Odin and Steve were slammed back into the walls. Bucky was gone, the Winter Soldier remained, engulfed by Hydra. “ _Talurin-Odin. Ashev, Hydra. Lafetin fafelini marlaturala possessalural._

Odin grabbed for his scepter, struggling under the onslaught. Piercing lights and shining ice—

The King collapsed.

“Bucky!” Steve yelled—books flew in every directions, paper, shreds of works, shreds of cloth, shreds of Bucky flew away. “Buck--!”

Bucky’s eyes were black. All traces of blue were gone. Black depths. Hydra.

“ _Talurin-Odin. Hydratin zeyeni da cha-tev odelurala taiyek._ ”

“Bucky, stop!” Steve roared, grabbing a bookcase and struggling forward. Grab him. Grab him and stop this—whatever it was—

“ _Talur, Zan Rogers. Talur._ ”

A _pulse_ rocked through the room. Steve felt the bookcase fall from his hands. He fought, fought hard, looking into those pitch black eyes. “Buck…” He fell forward on his knees and hit the floor.

The room went still. The Winter Soldier went to the Captain. He bared a brief moment when Thor leapt at him—smashing the prince into the wall, shards of ice slashing, slamming into him. “ _Hailur van, Dakurta Thor. Uhman cha-tev odelurala van taiyek. Uhman van._ ”

Thor grunted, struggling. Shards of ice—like chunks of glass, driven deep into his shoulders. Blood flowed hot and red down his plate.

Frigga drew her shortswords. “Unhand the Captain!”

The Soldier glanced at her and then back at Steve. He grabbed him by his arm, pulling him up and thumping him onto a reading desk.

Frigga twisted on her heel, swinging wide and slashing down. Ice smashed into her—she let one sword fall and slammed a boot down on one of the decorative shields—which had fallen from the wall. She grabbed it—using it to deflect. And then whipping it at the Soldier. He flashed around, slamming the blackened hide of the left arm into the metal—it slammed into the floor, through it, to the floor below.

In a flash, he was in Frigga’s face.

“No! Mother!” Thor’s hammer went spinning up and smashed into one of the shards.

The Soldier put his fist through her throat—

She dissolved in shimmers, leaping over the unconscious Odin, throwing daggers—

The door burst open, Clint dodged in, sending an arrow at the Soldier. It struck his eye—or would have—vaporized in a flash. The Soldier grabbed Frigga by the hair—

Clint froze, shaft in hand. Natasha slipped into sight behind him. “Let her go.”

Thor bashed his fist into the wall, the hammer followed and the stone exploded. Frigga flipped her shortsword, a sharp reverse thrust deep into the Soldier’s abdomen.

He struck her hard, throwing her through the plate glass window. Thor was after her in a flash, leaping out, freefalling into the open air. His hammer flashed into his fist and he spun, shooting them back up into the sky.

Natasha dashed forward—

But the Soldier reached Steve first. He grabbed the unconscious captain and then darkness consumed them. They were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce will be by to help with the language stuff soon.
> 
>  
> 
> Talurin-Odin - the Odinsleep
> 
> To die – Odelur  
> Odelural – one who dies – all singular  
> Odelurala – those who die – all plural
> 
> You – pl, emphasis – Cha-tev
> 
> By - da
> 
> Whim – zeyen
> 
> Lord - Zan
> 
> To worry – hailur
> 
> Do not worry – Hailur van.
> 
> Van – used AFTER a verb to indicate a negative
> 
> Taiyek – used AFTER a verb to indicate future tense.
> 
> Today - Uhman
> 
>  _Hydratin zeyenin (whim of Hydra) da (by) cha-tev (you, plural, for emphasis) odelurala taiyek (you [all] will die)._ You will die by the whim of Hydra.
> 
>  _Hailur van (do not worry), Dakurta Thor. Uhman (today) cha-tev (you, emphasis) odelurala (die) van taiyek (will not). Uhman van._ Do not worry, Prince Thor. Today, you will not die. Not today.
> 
>  _Talur, Zan Rogers_ Sleep, Lord Rogers


	9. Hail Hydra

Loki felt the shift from the North. Something was happening. He turned, the wind whipped at his robes. The Aurora above, shining lights and freezing colors—it rippled, doubled in size—and then went out.

Loki’s eyes went wide. “No…”

Something had happened. Ill omens had never been Loki’s concern. He cared about what worked—not guessing games. But this—the Aurora. He touched his horse, the magnificent beast—named for that magnificence in the sky. “Go, hurry. Hurry.”

Shimmers, ripples and flashing green and gold and he and Aurora were flashing across the rocky land, the Cold Desert. Like lightening before a storm.

 

King Laufey stood when the Soldier suddenly flashed into being in his throne room. “Winter Soldier—“

“Your pet,” said the Soldier. “And your prize.” He threw the Captain to the floor.

Laufey started and then bowed. “Hail Hydra.”

“Indeed,” the Soldier sneered. Hydra’s black eyes peered out at him. “Is there a reason you sent the Winter Soldier, my tool, and your Asgardian Prince into the nest of dragons?”

Laufey started to straighten—

_Kneel._

Laufey’s knee collapsed. He swallowed. “The Captain trusts too easily—it was simplest to use the previous identity of the Soldier against him.”

“Nevermind that he would begin to remember. The damage is now done. This is beyond anything that your Asgardian could have done. Who, by the way, is coming.”

“Loki is coming here? But—”

“Yes, you fool. And now he comes with the knowledge of who he is. You have damaged my tool and now the Asgardian will bring wrath against you.”

“I am King of Jotunheim—the banners will rally to me. The giants of the North, of course—but also the south and the east—“

“No. You will have no further role, Laufey of Jotunheim.”

The Winter Soldier’s human body flexed, surged. The blackness in his eyes drained out like puss and he collapsed. Laufey tried to stand—

As Loki threw open the stone doors.

—as Hydra entered into the Frost King.

“No—I have served—“

—and the Soldier opened his eyes. He started, staggering up. “King Laufey—“

And then Laufey seemed to implode. His stomach sucked inward, his ribs cracked, spearing through his skin and out. Lungs piercing, blood and bile bubbling out of his throat. His eyes were reddening—bursting into blood and glops of jelly white matter. Slowly, his knees sunk back, inward and then cracked in half. The flesh on his feet spidered and split apart. Bone shattered.

The other Giants of the court didn’t even stop Loki coming forward, kneeling next to Captain Rogers. “Captain Rogers—“ he said, pulling on his shoulder. He didn’t look down at the man, keeping his gaze on the slow corruption of blue skin in front of them. “—are you injured?”

Pink and grey matter dribbled out between Laufey’s ears.

“Captain Rogers,” Loki said again, shaking him.

The Winter Soldier turned around. “Prince Loki—“

“No!” Laufey’s skin was sagging, like an ill-fitted suit. But Hydra’s voice ground out of the half-broken jaw.

“Hydra….” Loki looked back towards the door. He eased to a standing position. “Polerion—“

Hydra was moving, destroyed fingers ripping, gripping into the Winter Soldier, dragging him closer with invisible hooks. “My vessel. We will purge this corruption now.”

The Soldier’s arm seemed to move on its own. It straightened like a sword, snapping hard, loud. Bucky jerked—the throne was wrenched off its stone base. He climbed up onto the platform.

“No—no!” Bucky’s face flooded with terror—he remembered this. Remembered this platform. The horror, the darkness, what came next—

The last of Laufey’s flesh fell away and Hydra stood in darkness, like a mold of shadow. He approached, grabbed into the horrible arm.

Bucky’s vision rippled, cracked, swam.

“You have been mishandled. You are my vessel. You belong to me.” He ripped his arm off.

Loki didn’t think—he leapt over Captain Rogers’ still body—flashing forward.

Such horrific ease that Hydra raised his free hand, grabbing into the Asgardian prince with a _surge_ of power. “Had you stayed with them, you might have learned to control your magic to an extent that you might actually challenge me. But now the whore-queen is dead and the king in the Odinsleep.”

Loki’s stomach turned to lead. The one moment, intertwining, warmth—the strange unconditional _warmth_ he’d felt from Frigga and her magic. “You killed the queen.”

“Do you think such fragile forms survive falls through glass, Asgardian? The ground is a long way down.” He smiled—and that strange smile, needlesharp mouth full of needlesharp teeth seemed to take up most of his face. “She fell—though she fought better than your father, Odin. And Thor. She even stabbed the Soldier.” He glanced over—and Loki only now noticed the blood soaking Polerion’s side wasn’t from his shoulder. “But I can imagine her falling, screaming—you might have saved her, you know—had you not run like a coward. She touched you, didn’t she? With her magic—and that was what convinced you. Are you so easily attached to them already?”

Loki flashed from his grip, disappearing from the hooks of his magic—and appeared in his face. Knives slashed out, shards of ice—slamming into Hydra—

Who merely shook them off. His mouth smiled. “No, no, little one. You were to be my next tool. But don’t overestimate your importance. You are expendable now.” The air around Hydra _pulsed_ and Loki slammed back into the walls, crushing stone locking his wrists and ankles in place. “However, should the Captain not survive the process, you will do as a backup.”

Loki cursed his stupidity—it was so clear, so obvious. “So that’s why I was taken from Asgard. To be turned into one like him, the Winter Soldier.”

“Yes.” Hydra turned back, iron helm sparking into existence, covering his burning eyes but not that terrible mouth. He went back to the Soldier. Bucky was bleeding out quickly, shaking. “And now you.” His blackened claws dug deep, grabbing into the pulped flesh of tissue that remained of Polerion’s left arm.

He screamed, terror and pain and memory flashing up hard and black in his eyes.

_Falling off the ice bridge—found by the Giants—_

_King Laufey—_

_You will be the fist of Hydra._

_Screaming. Screaming in the darkness._

_No one will come for you. Scream all you like._

_Tearing, ripping flesh, blood and sulfur, the stench of blood and bodies._

_No one can hear you scream. You belong to Hydra._

_Hydra._

_Hydra._

_Hail, Hydra._

_Yes, yes, good boy. Good lad. You will be mine. And I am yours. Come to me. Soul and body._

_Ashev, Hydra. Lafetin fafelini marlaturala possessalural._

_Purge._

_Cha-yum Dakurtatin, cha-yum Sayanin Asterin…_

_My Prince, my Winter Soldier…_

_Bulaturap, cha-tin Ateen’a yalural._

_Be purged, you belong to God._

Burning, like fire. Everything hurt. Burning.

And then—

Loki watched now—watched the new arm appear, crawling into existence like snakes. Latching into Polerion’s shoulder, forming the mold of the blackened arm and then filling in. The hide crawling down his side, over the wound from the Queen.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Hydra flicked his fingers and the stone holding Loki to the wall cracked, spitting the prince to the cold floor. Loki, to his credit, landed hard—but graceful. On both feet and a hand, bending in on his left knee. He looked at the Winter Soldier—there was no hope of getting him out now. Still, he might be able to—

He took off like a sprinter, sliding in next to Captain Rogers and grabbing him by the arm. The man was still unconscious and heavy and Loki slashed out, magic forming around the Captain. He threw him towards the door, where ice formed a bridge, a sleigh. Loki sprinted to follow—

The Soldier grabbed him—he hadn’t even sensed his movement. The Soldier grabbed him, smashed him into the stone. Loki had seen the Soldier’s brutality on many instances—still it did not seem real. He did not hesitate to strike back—grabbing daggers, slashing.

Bucky Barnes, Polerion, the Winter Soldier, blue eyes as cold as glacier ice—he grabbed Loki’s hair, smashing his face into the stone over and over—

“Winter Soldier.”

He stopped instantly, keeping hold of Loki but looking up at Hydra.

“Don’t kill him. We might need him. Take him to the cells.”

Loki tried to dissipate into shimmers—but somehow the arm found him almost instantly. The dark hide grew again, this time latching into Loki’s hand, arm, spreading up. Paralyzing shocks slammed up into him, staggering him, bending him double. The skin tore off, drinking, _feeding_ off of Loki’s blood and flesh.

When the Prince woke next—he was in the cells. Floor and ceiling made of stone, the walls of enchanted ice. There was vomit on the floor, clearly his own. He looked at his arm. Mutilated and stripped of skin from the elbow down. Loki pulled back, sitting up against the wall. His breathing shortened at the sight of his arm and he closed his eyes a brief moment to get ahold of himself. He had killed many people and seen many more corpses in his life. This was nothing. His stripped fingers were twitching.

Loki pulled off his cloak and sat back.

_Close your eyes._

_Calm your mind._

When he opened them again, his arm was still stripped of flesh but now he could lay his right palm on the mutilated appendage. His eyes rolled back and burning heat seared the raw tissue. Dizziness swept in like a wave. Loki forced it back and then he wrapped the cauterized flesh in his cloak.

After several more moments, he was able to get up. Rogers was nowhere to be seen.

 

 

“Loki is gone,” said Thor, glancing over the golden glow of his father’s bed at his mother.

“I felt it,” she said quietly. “Whatever happened when he spoke to the Winter Soldier…I can’t imagine he went anywhere but back North.”

“So he betrayed us—“

“No,” Thor interrupted, cutting off Tony with a glare. “He could have done that at any time. He could have killed any of us himself. But Hydra came through and used the friend of Rogers.”

“I thought you were keeping an eye on that,” Tony drawled, shooting a sidelong look at Natasha.

“We were. But we can’t exactly camp inside the room with them.”

“Steve wouldn’t have allowed it. He trusted Barnes completely. He was totally compromised,” Clint said, shrugging. “You want us to fight the Cap or what?”

“In any case,” said Bruce. “From what you tell me—Hydra somehow triggered the Odinsleep. Your father is out of commission until he wakes.”

“Yes, if the Giants plan to attack—it will be now.”

“So let’s take the fight to them,” Tony shrugged.

“That’s exactly what they would want,” Clint said. “It’s suicide.”

“Not if Loki is still with us—“ Thor began.

“Which you don’t know that he is,” Natasha said.

“—and we can retrieve Captain Rogers—“

“Who might already be dead.”

“—and stop this Winter Soldier—“

“Who was completely taken over by a _God_.”

Thor looked at Natasha, glaring. “Then what do you suggest, Lady Natasha? That we allow Hydra to bring an army of Frost Giants into Asgard?”

Natasha snorted. “Well, no…just—suicide missions aren’t really my thing anymore.”

“Then you are welcome to remain here,” Thor told her. He looked to Tony. “Let us go and prepare, my friends.”

Tony smiled. “That’s more like it!” He followed Thor. Bruce trailed after them.

Natasha and Clint looked at each other and sighed. “Fine, fine,” Natasha said and she and Clint followed them.

Tony and Bruce went right to work on Tony’s newest suit. Thor repaired his plate and armor while Clint and Natasha cleaned weapons.

Around the city, Frigga was preparing for attack and siege. The bells rang when the Odinsleep descended and all residents knew—this was the time of any to expect attack. They looked to their warrior-queen, resplendent in silver armor, carrying Odin’s spear. She was out among them and would fight with them—to the death if necessary. Her Queensgard, led by Lady Sif and her Shield-maidens, spread out into the city to assist in the preparations.

 

 

Dawn barely peeked over the glittering hills when they left Asgard. Dashing out into the expanse on magnificent horses, riding hard for the Northern border. Thor had Steve’s shield strapped across his back. Bruce leaned over his horse, reaching out into the wind—hasten their progress, light on foot and hoof, like wings. Tony rode close to him, ensuring Bruce did not pass out or fall off his horse. He was using everything he had to hasten their speed. Eventually, Tony just pulled Bruce onto his own horse, holding his friend in place. Bruce’s head bowed, face pale from exhaustion. Yet still, still, he kept murmuring. The gold embroidery in his blue robes, continuously changing, fluxuating, flashing into the wind like notes from a flute. The horses remained strong, did not tire and the wind pushed them forward into the night.

The stars swept above them like salt on black silk. But the clouds ahead did not break and they rode into a massive wall of darkness. Snow enveloped them. Thor looked back at Bruce, meeting Tony’s eyes over the mage’s shoulders. “He can’t help us _and_ create a barrier! It’s too much!”

Thor nodded and spun his hammer. The wind and snow bubbled and burst, throwing it back and disrupting long enough for him to get bearings on directions. The great Ice Wall loomed higher than the cloud line. But between them and it—the mile-wide trench in the glacier. They pulled the horses to a stop.

Clint went to Tony’s horse and helped Bruce get down. “Sit down a moment, Bruce. Rest. You did great.”

Bruce looked pale and slightly nauseated. He nodded, swallowing hard and panting, slumping down to sit on the ice. Tony stayed standing beside him.

Thor, Clint and Natasha went to the edge of the canyon. “Are you planning on doing the rope trick again?” Clint asked Thor.

The Prince frowned. “No. Not this time.” He spun his Hammer and let fly. It made a sound like stone smashing together when it hit the Wall on the other side. It went right through it, came out at another spot and back to Thor’s hand. Gravity took care of the rest, the weight collapsing a chunk of the wall. It collapsed across the canyon.

Clint selected a shaft from his quiver while Thor spun his hammer again. The hammer bashed through another part of the mighty wall and brought it crashing down on top of the other.

Clint notched the silvery shaft to his bow.

Natasha waited for the hammer to return a third time and smiled at Thor winningly. “Don’t you dare spin me.”

“You have my word.” He winked at her.

She scoffed and grabbed onto the grip of the hammer.

Thor lifted it and the woman. He drew back as far as he could and then flung them.

The head of hammer smashed into the ice on the other side. Natasha hopped off the shaft. She pulled the crossbow off her back and aimed up, implanting a hook into the ice. Behind her, the hammer lifted, spun and shot back to Thor. She went scampering up the wall on a rope.

Clint started across the collapsed ice walls while Thor went back to Tony and Bruce.

“Will you be all right, Sir Banner?”

Bruce stood. “Yes, of course. Let’s go.” He trailed a short ways behind them as they started across the collapsed ice.

 

 

Steve woke slowly. His eyes were scratchy. It was dark and extremely cold. He sat up, looking around. “Bucky?” he asked aloud. “Buck!”

“You have a magical resistance that is far superior to the Winter Soldier, Captain Rogers.”

Steve tensed, jumping to his feet. He shifted automatically into stance, fists clenching when the man appeared before him.

Molted flesh, like someone burned in a housefire. An iron helm that covered his eyes, and his mouth, too large, and his teeth—too long, too sharp.

“Hydra…”

“Yes, you remember me, Captain. Last we saw each other, you killed the Red Skull.”

Steve said nothing, circling, putting a little distance between them.

“I know you would like to kill other servants of mine—but I can’t have you injured. You are to be the next servant of Hydra. Go on—say the words, Captain.”

Steve’s throat convulsed. Warm waves swept over him, pleasure and calm. Trance. Say the words. _Hail Hydra._ Two simple words and simply be. Simply be. No worrying. No terror. No pain. No fear. Nothing but Hydra.

  
Steve screwed his eyes shut.

“Ah yes, your friend, James Barnes—he fought as you do.”

Steve’s eyes flew back open.

“Though he did not have the resistance that you do now. It would have pained you to watch, I imagine. The ripping of flesh is never pleasant for mortals. Or immortals, really.”

“Where is Bucky?”

He couldn’t see what Hydra’s eyes were doing—but that horrible slash of a mouth widened too much, showing his needle-sharp teeth. “The Winter Soldier, you mean? Yes, I imagine you want to see him again.”

“Where is he!”

The disgusting mouth smiled. He turned away, stalking up to the platform. What remained of Laufey was still there, scattered across the room like table scraps. A crow pecked at the remains.

Steve looked around him. He had left his armor back in his quarters—along with his shield—expecting only to go and speak to Thor….not for….for whatever had happened to Bucky to happen. “What did you do to Bucky in Asgard! That wasn’t him that hurt Odin!”

“Merely taking back what was mine to begin with. And correcting a badly-handled job. King Laufey should never have sent the Soldier or the Prince to Asgard. But,” he said, turning back to Steve, “nothing to be done for it now. Now we will have war. The Giants are outside now, waiting for your friends to arrive.”

Steve felt his heart constrict.

“Oh yes, Captain. Prince Thor, the mage—Bruce Banner, Lord Stark, the forest archer and the assassin woman—they are all on their way. I’d say it must be a joke—but when they are gone—there will be no one between Asgard and myself. But that’s a minor point. I don’t care about Asgard. You know, I thought to use Prince Loki as the tool to fight you but now I see—to use you will provide far more satisfaction. But before you, there had to be a test subject.”

The Winter Soldier seemed to materialize right out of the darkness at Steve’s side.

“B-Buck—“

“No point in being sentimental now, Captain.”

“I will not fight him!” Steve snapped. He turned to Bucky, grabbing his shoulder. “Bucky! Buck!”

But the Winter Soldier merely stared straight ahead at Hydra and did not move.

“That does make things easier, doesn’t it,” the Mouth said. “Soldier, if you would prepare the Captain.”

The Winter Soldier grabbed Steve by his shirt and threw him towards the platform. Steve twisted, flipped around. “Bucky—don’t do this. Don’t—you are not yourself. Bucky!”

The Soldier came at him like a sledgehammer, grabbing him up. Steve turned, knocked his fists away. “Bucky! You know me! You know Loki! I’m your friend! He—”

“Loki, Prince of Asgard—friend of the Winter Soldier,” said the Mouth. “Indeed. You haven’t seen Loki in the last twenty-four hours, have you?”

Steve looked at Hydra. “Loki….did he betray—“

“No wonder he can’t seem to make friends. Everyone is so suspicious of him. No, Prince Loki came back to confront Laufey on his own since _Polerion_ refused to tell him why he was taken from Asgard.” His smile again, all red-stained teeth. “Oh, I believe you were there for that conversation, weren’t you, Captain? You are not very bright when it comes to judging character, are you? Laufey was right about that, at least. You are too trusting, Captain--of all the wrong people. Fatal flaw in this business.” He waved a hand.

The Winter Soldier struck, battering at Steve again, grabbing into him, throwing him at the platform. Steve grabbed it, rolled over the top of it. “Bucky! Stop!”

In a flash, the Winter Soldier was over the platform and in his face. He grabbed Steve.

"Bucky--don't give in to this! You know me!"

He paused.

Steve felt a flash of relief. “Bucky—you’ve known me your whole life. Remember—we had this conversation in Asgard—we are—“

The Soldier grabbed his arm with one hand, the other grabbed his hip. He slammed Steve down onto the platform. Methodically, the Winter Soldier tore off Steve’s sleeves, bracing a knee on his chest. The Soldier then took his dark arm, wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist. The blackened hide grew over his flesh, his hand, binding Steve’s arm to the stone.

“No—no, dammit!” Steve backhanded the Soldier. His friend showed no reaction. He only lifted his hand away and watched the hide grow like a spider’s web. Encasing Steve’s arm to the stone, binding it down. “Bucky! Don’t! Don’t do this! Bucky!”

His blue eyes were empty, clouded over as he reached to repeat the process with Steve’s other arm.

“James Barnes!”

The Winter Soldier bound him down at the ankles. Revulsion was choking him, feeling the horrible, thick, warm hide crawling up his flesh. It turned colder the longer it was on him. His left arm was numb.

The door to the throne room opened. A Giant entered, throwing Loki inside. The prince did not look too good. He was covered in blood and bruises. His arm was wrapped in scraps of a cloak. Loki staggered and fell to his knees. He glared at Hydra and then startled, seeing Steve. “You cannot mean to use the Captain for this?” he sneered. And even covered in blood and a mess—Loki still managed to sound smugly superior.

Hydra merely snorted, turning to look at the Winter Soldier’s progress.

“You won’t be able to corrupt him. He’s too well-protected. His resistance is too high. His sickening nobility will kill you.”

“Loki!” Steve bellowed. “The others are on their way! You—“

“Captain, quiet yourself. You’ll only make it worse.”

“Thor is coming—I know you are angry—but he truly believes in you, Loki—“

Hydra stood, sauntering over to Steve and the Winter Soldier. “I believe I asked you to be quiet, Captain.”

Loki stood, sensing something. Something looming. An ominous shift. Calm before the storm. "Be quiet, Captain."

“Bruce will have translated what Hydra said to them before he hurt Odin—“

“Do you need some sort of encouragement, Captain? Perhaps some other form of motivation for silence?”

"Rogers! Shut up!"

Steve doggedly went on, looking at Loki. “I was suspicious of you—and you didn’t deserve that. I thought I was protecting Bucky—but—“

Blood burst in a spray all over Steve’s face, cutting him off. He started, jerking back, looking up. And froze.

Loki stopped cold.

Hydra flexed his clawed fingers inside Bucky’s ribcage. Reaching right through his friend, through the back of his body armor, emerging out the front. Blood slopped over Steve.

The Winter Soldier didn’t move. Seemed frozen, stiff.

“There we are. That seems to have quieted you.” Hydra picked up the Soldier and dumped his body on top of Steve’s.

“B-Bucky! Bucky!” He fought the web of black hide pinning him down—but he could not break it.

The fog cleared from the Winter Soldier’s eyes and Bucky climbed through. “Steve….? Where….what happened….I…I think I must have…taken a hit….ahaha…my chest kinda…hurts, pal…”

And then the light dimmed in his eyes.

“No--! NO! BUCK--!! BUCKY!”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cha-yum [my, emphasis] Dakurtatin [prince], cha-yum Sayanin Asterin [winter's soldier]…  
> My Prince, my Winter Soldier…
> 
> Bulaturap, cha-tin Ateen’a yalural.  
> Be purged, you belong to God.
> 
>  
> 
> sayan - Winter  
> aster - soldier
> 
> bulatur - to purge  
> bulatur-ap = to BE purged  
> cha-tin : you, singular - emphasis  
> yalur = to belong


	10. When the Winter Comes

The world hollowed out. Everything was muted, grey, washed and faded. All he could feel was Bucky’s hot blood, soaking into his clothes. He stared at his friend’s face, cold and dark. 

_Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky._

When his father died of plague and then his mother from the Consumption. Blood speckled all over her mouth like pretty lace. Pretty red lace. So delicate, just a touch of a towel and it smeared. He had the same light, hot feeling in his head—like nothing was real. Staring at Bucky’s face, inches from his own, and knowing. _Knowing that this was the end._

“I’ve persisted through everything,” he murmured.

No one heard him. Outside his bubble of surreal breath and rage, Loki threw the scraps of cloak down. His glaive vanished from his chambers within the palace and materialized in his palm. Steve didn’t hear the sounds of a fight building outside. The roar he heard was only the one in his ears as his blood rushed into his head. 

Loki seared across the throne room floor. His glaive slashed like lightening, silver and glinting in starlight and moonlight. Flaring of flame, blue and cold. Cold. Cold like his green gaze on Hydra. 

“A cold rage really is the most volatile,” Hydra informed him. “Like lightening is to fire.” He snatched at the air, a wavering barrier—like water in the air on a hot day—absorbed every hit, every smash of magic. The air imploded, burnt of sulfur. 

Hydra vanished, reappearing behind Loki—grabbed his mutilated arm and ripped if off—

Loki vanished in shimmers, appearing from the opposite side and planted the blade of his glaive in Hydra’s side.

“Oh, a touch more clever than your Frost Giant kin, Prince Loki? Did they teach you magic?”

“No.” He shoved the glaive in deeper.

Hydra grabbed hold of the shaft and snapped it. He yanked the blade out and tossed it. “You would have made a good vessel.”

Loki stepped back, only the pole of his glaive remained. He flipped it like a rod, holding it in closer. He glanced over at the platform where the throne had sat. Rogers was still there, silent and still. Polerion was lying on top of him. Rogers was covered in his blood. The demon arm was dying, slowly turning pale gray. If Hydra made Rogers his vessel—there would be no one who could stop him. Rogers would kill all of them. He could stall Hydra as long as he could but…

_If you’re going to have a great idea—now is the time, Loki._

Nothing came. Nothing but _do everything I can before Hydra kills me_. He owed Hydra one, at least. 

_Frigga…_

No one had ever looked at him with such genuine love before. Even before she had touched him to confirm what she clearly seemed to already know. The warmth of her magic, the familiarity, the twining gentleness of her mind touching his. No taking, no rushing, no violation—but a quiet, almost timid, touch. Knowing him, letting him touch back, letting him know her. Feeling that something rise in him that instantly knew the truth. _Mother…_

He grit his teeth. Unleashed.

 

Steve became aware of himself again suddenly. He looked down at Bucky’s still face. “I’m sorry…for everything…”

Bucky’s blood was still ebbing out of him, following the slope of Steve’s chest, congealing at his throat. His nose was full of the coppery burn. The anger wasn’t blind anymore, it settled into something else. Black and cold. He wasn’t aware of breaking the blackened hide holding his arms down. It snapped like spider webs under this new feeling. 

His vision tunneled as he sat up, ripping the hide off his legs.

Loki flashed, a wave of ice smashing into Hydra—something grabbed him. Loki looked down—too late—the leathery arm seemed to reach from nowhere. It grabbed his leg, twisted and snapped. The prince was flipped to the side, slamming him into the wall. His face smeared with blood.

Hydra appeared before him. Those razor-point teeth gleamed brown and red and sharp and he shoved his fist deep into Loki’s chest—

Or where he had been anyway.

The wall came down around them. A huge, dark beast grabbed Loki and, in a flash, was across the room with him. Hydra turned, interested now.

The beast was man-shaped, colossal and deep green. It put Loki down by the wall and then snorted like a bull. 

“You are the blood beast, Sir Banner, aren’t you?” Hydra asked.

He grunted and grinned.

Hydra flashed up to him, slashing—

Banner grabbed him by the helm and beat him into the ground. Loki’s eyes went wide, pulling himself back to the wall. _Glad that’s not me._

The giant green thing smashed Hydra two, three, four, five, six more times? Six dozen more times? And then slammed him into the wall. The stone and ice collapsed.

Thor was just beyond with Clint. The Giants had fought at first—but their loyalty had not lasted. Their king was dead and Hydra would lay waste to everything—or they would be butchered by the other Realms. They scattered like spilled rice.

Tony, in his new iron suit, smashed through the ceiling. 

Steve was getting up now. He carefully lifted Bucky and laid him on the platform. He arranged the body of his friend and gently closed Bucky’s eyes. He stood up, turning around—

Hydra stared back with those teeth. “Still moving, are you?” The god’s claws grabbed into him. The influence, the waves of warmth, control, bore down on him.

Steve felt it. Felt that influence. Felt the power, the magic, the will to dominate humanity, to take, to purge, to burn away anything it desired with fire and death. To _grab_ into Steve and _use_ him as a butcher.

Steve reached back. Slamming his fist into Hydra’s ribcage, grabbing into bone and blood and tissue. The God snarled, tearing, burning Steve’s flesh. The Captain did not feel it. 

Natasha appeared from nowhere. “Tony! Thor! Your cue!” She threw up the two chunks of fireglass. 

Tony threw out one of his flame rods. The steam gears in his suit clanked and spun. He opened his fist and fired. Thor turned and swung Mjolnir. 

Fire and lightening slamming into the fireglass, expanding, directing, intensifying. Burning like the sun. The eyes from the statue of Hydra. 

Natasha raised her eyebrows. “Dark of the Frost takes Those Who Look, huh? Isn’t that ironic?” 

Hydra looked at her and then down—he ignited in flame. Steve ripped his fist back, soaked in black blood. He raised his hand, grabbing his shield from the air. He hadn’t seen it, heard it—just sensed it. He smashed it into Hydra, burying him deeper into that beam of fire. When Steve swung his free hand, fist smashing into those teeth. He felt them shatter, felt his gums burst and every bone in Hydra’s face fracture. Again. Again.

Again.

Again.

Again and again and again. Every smash, every hit, every _throoong_ his shield made against Hydra’s molted, leathery flesh for every wrong. For every moment Bucky had spent in torment under his command. Steve’s vision blurred. 

_…with you…_

He shifted his hold and slammed the shield in rim first, half-burying the weapon in the seam of Hydra’s neck and shoulder.

_…til the end of the line…._

The shield came out, soaked in brackish blood, soaked in Hydra. The laser of heat from Tony and Thor flared and then burst through the front of Hydra’s body. It hit Steve’s shield and then Clint fired. The two massive gems were shot aside, stopping the triangulation of fire. Thor lowered Mjolnir and Tony snatched his fire rods from the air. 

Steve dropped his shield. He grabbed Hydra’s form as it started to collapse. “…no…no…” He knelt to the stone, taking Hydra with him. His fist drew back and went down over and over. Over and over.

Over and over and over—until Thor grabbed him, pulling him away. “Captain Rogers! Captain!”

His voice came through as though a fog was in Steve’s ears—and then cleared. He panted, shaking. Thor was sitting on the stone, holding Steve to him. Steve shook, covered in blood, body armor, bits of bone. “He’s—“

“He’s dead. He is dead, my brother. You vanquished Hydra. Songs will be written.”

Bruce transformed, became his regular self and came running to Steve. “Your arms, hold them out.” He grabbed into Steve’s mutilated flesh, kneeling before him and bowing his head. The blue in his robes was like water and the gold embroidery fluxuated again. It flexed, sang to the room, weaving gold markings in and around Steve’s flesh. Bruce looked older somehow, when it was done. His panted quietly, strands of hair turning grey before their eyes.

Steve watched his skin regrow slowly—scarring heavily but closing up at least. He looked around at them. All of them. All of them except— “Where is Loki?”

Bruce’s eyes went up, nodding behind them.

Steve stood—or rather, Thor got up and pulled Steve with him. He turned.

Loki had his hands on Bucky. He had paled like snow but he had his palms braced in Bucky’s wounds. And then he grabbed onto the dead demon arm and ripped it off. It turned to ash on the altar. Tony started and then hurried forward. One of his flame rods appeared in his hand and he knelt, cauterizing the stump at Bucky’s shoulder. 

Steve’s mouth opened, not daring to hope. To…

He looked at Thor.

“He lives…barely.”

Steve sagged. Thor grabbed him and then Steve lurched away, going to Bucky’s side. “He’s…he’s….”

Loki looked away, pulling back. “Done what I can,” he said quietly. “The Demon arm was capable of acting on its own, including the preservation of the host. It kept Polerion alive until Hydra was dead for good.”

“Loki….”

Loki shook his head and backed away. 

“Brother, your leg…”

Loki sat himself down against the wall. “I will splint it.”

“Let me,” Natasha rolled her eyes. “You’ll just mess it up as you are now.” She knelt beside him. He tensed, as though to draw back. “Oh, c’mon, men always want me to fix up their wounds. Don’t be the first to tell me no.”

“Ladies never tell me no, either,” Tony added.

“Breaking their legs so they can’t run away is not consent,” Natasha replied, opening up her pack. 

“I bet Clint would have something to say to that.”

Clint snorted. “She never breaks my legs.”

“Oh, Oh God. No. No. Did not need to know that,” Tony declared.

Bruce approached, kneeling as well to hand her bandages and wooden shafts. 

Steve leaned on the platform and picked Bucky up. Thor went to Loki once his splint was finished. The elder prince did not hesitate to put an arm under Loki’s arm and lift him, taking almost all of his weight. They headed back across the ice gorge.  
Natasha was last to leave. She looked around and skipped back over to the fireglass gems. She grabbed them, put them in her pack and then ran to catch up.

Clint shot her an amused look.

“What!”

 

 

 

Back in Asgard, Bruce was recovering in the healing hall—overuse of his magic and of the Blood Form caused bits of his soul to whither. Tony napped by his bedside, claiming that he was supervising the healers as they worked to reverse the damage of the Blood Form. Bruce’s greying hair slowly faded back to brown and his skin flushed with color, rather than that pale slate grey. 

Loki awoke in a large bed in a lovely room. He blinked. “Frigga?”

She smiled, touching his hand. She was warm.

“You…this is not an illusion.”

“No, no, Loki. I have been seeing to you.”

“Hydra…he…said you were dead.”

“Ah…” Frigga’s face smoothed and then furrowed in understanding. “No, I’m not dead. He tried.” She winked. “But I am much harder to kill than that. Your father awoke from the Odinsleep the moment Hydra was killed. So as soon as you are ready, we can go and see him.”

Loki stared at her and wasn’t sure what to say.

 

 

Steve recalled someone seeing to his burns, his wounds, his torched arms. Bruce had closed the wounds, halted infection—but he was not a healing mage. The healers took over to finish the work. Steve hardly remembered it. He was sitting at Bucky’s side the rest of the time, waiting. The damage to him was more extensive. 

When those smoky blue eyes finally opened, Steve jumped. “Bucky?”

Bucky looked around, seeming almost lost for a moment. Like when Steve had found him in Zola’s lab. “Steve….?”

“Yeah, yeah, are you okay? Bucky…are you…”

“What happened….?” He asked. “I remember…” he swallowed, “…I remember being with you and then…Loki came and asked us something…and then….nothing.”

Steve embraced him. “I’ll explain. I will. Just. Gimme a minute.”

“Where’s my arm?” Bucky asked quietly, voice muffled against Steve’s shoulder.

“That too. Just one second.”

“Did you knock me out and remove my arm?”

Steve couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him. “No, you idiot. Just shut up for a minute.”

“You’re makin’ me nervous, pal. What happened?”

Steve ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “God, it’s all back, isn’t it? You remember…you…you sound like…. _you_ …”

“I’d hope so—but yeah…seems to be. I just….just the last couple days are real hazy. If you could tell me what happened to my arm, I’d feel better. I mean, I never really liked that arm—but I’d rather have two than one.”

“Tony is building you a new one, don’t worry.”

“I won’t—if you tell me what happened!” Bucky said, smiling. His eyes were still tired, his skin and face gaunt and hollow but his eyes smiled.

Steve pulled him in. “Just shut up for a minute.”

 

 

Loki entered the throne room, Frigga on one side, Thor on the other. And in front of them, the mighty Odin. The King stood. “I hope that we can dismiss past grudges, Loki. I want to welcome you as my son. A prince of Asgard.”

Loki tensed, found himself unable to hold Thor’s open, earnest gaze and looked to Frigga. She smiled gently and touched his arm. Loki looked at her hand, that contact. It still felt uncomfortable but…but it was a discomfort that he wanted to explore.   
Something besides murder, death, killings and the cold. Something besides being a tool, a thing, a stolen relic. Something that…could feel warmth—the touch of a few fingers and a palm. 

Frigga smiled, something welling up in her eyes. “You look so sad, Loki. You don’t have to be afraid.”

He flinched back a little. Fear. Afraid. Madness. 

“Loki,” she said again, gentler. “Allow us to try.”

Odin set his spear on his throne and came down from it. He took off his helm, his cloak. He approached Loki—a big man, like Thor was—approached him and touched his shoulder. “Loki Odinson.”

Loki looked around a little and stepped back. “I…yes….”

“We know you will need time to adjust, Loki,” said Frigga. “And that’s all right. But we’re here when you’re ready.”

“Come home, when you’re ready,” Odin added.

Loki looked up a bit, his eyes met Thor’s. Open, earnest Thor. It was almost too difficult to stand there under the weight of such earnest gazes. This trio of strangers who wanted to be his….his family.

Loki stepped back again, green-gold shimmered around him and he vanished.

Thor and Odin looked to Frigga.

She just smiled. “He’ll be back.”

 

 

Bucky sat up in bed. Steve had gone to get them something to eat. He did not flinch at all when Loki appeared at his side. “Loki,” he said, quietly.

Loki sighed, brushing imaginary dust from his cloak. “All this love and understanding is a little overwhelming, isn’t it?”

Bucky half-smiled. “….yeah. I still don’t quite understand.”

“They want me to stay, make me a prince.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I’m leaving. I wanted to give you the last option—you were…the only one I might have counted among the court as an ally—you could come with me, Polerion.”

“Call me Bucky.”

“Bucky,” Loki repeated, trying the name out. “It’s a silly name.”

“Yeah, but my friends call me Bucky.”

Loki examined him. “I see, then, Bucky.” He bowed a little over his arm. 

“You’ll be back,” Bucky said.

Loki looked out the window, then back at him. “Perhaps, when winter comes.” He smiled and vanished.


	11. Winter Solstice

Loki sat alone on the cliffs. His glaive lay at his side—it was new, still shining. Unlike the one broken by Hydra, this was made of Asgardian steel, inlaid with Mythril and a core of solid, enchanted silver. The Stark family certainly knew how to make quality weapons. Far below, the city of Asgard stretched out like a long arm. It twinkled like a star over the great Asgard River. The Rainbow Bridges—seven of them, total—spanned the river in seven different locations. They were all busy, bustling with people shopping, playing, laughing. And also crying, mourning and hurting, because no city was perfect no matter how brightly it shone. 

He was now a prince of this city. Of this whole realm—and the other eight realms. He had returned to Jotunheim and destroyed any and all remaining organization the Frost Giants held. He took the Casket of Ancient Winters as well. Perhaps it would be safe in Asgard. 

His dreams were still heavy and dark, full of the smell of blood and whisper of Hydra. But slowly, it became easier to bear. He braced an elbow on his knee, watching Polerion make its way slowly across the northern sky. Clouds billowed up, chasing it. Snow was on the way. 

He still admired the beauty of winter. It was not all frigid violence—but tranquil and soft, as well. Still, some part of him was hesitating. He felt nausea—he wanted to go down to the city and yet—did not. He had been alone for so long (except for the Winter Soldier) that to go to Asgard, to appear at the castle—knowing Frigga might— _would_ be there with her terrifying acceptance…to admit that perhaps he wanted to try it—to allow Thor to look at him with that stupid earnest gaze. And Odin—his father. To be someone’s son. The longing felt uncomfortable. _Soft._ Though he knew it was not.

Night descended and clouds were thick and heavy, masking the stars. As the city settled into quiet, Loki appeared at the Seventh Rainbow Bridge. It was guarded in the middle, as it sectioned off there and ran straight to the palace. He looked at the guards. They bowed and lowered their spears.

Loki nodded to them, passing them. The snow was falling and it was perfect, dusting the bridge and his armor and his night-black hair. And Frigga.

She was already outside, standing on the bridge before the gates, simply waiting. “I thought you’d never come down.”

Loki looked aside and then back at her. 

“I felt your presence when you entered the city,” she said softly and reached out an arm to him. “Come, we’ll have hot chocolate.”

Loki looked above, into the dark clouds and then back to her. His lips thinned and he took her arm, linking it with his own. “What is hot chocolate?”

She smiled but her eyes were tinged with sadness. “You’ll like it, Loki. Something to warm you up.”

Thor appeared as if he’d been summoned, throwing open the door to the library, where Frigga was pouring two cups of thick hot chocolate. She smiled and took out another cup.

“Brother,” Thor breathed. He went up to Loki, pulling him up and embraced him.

Loki stiffened, shoulders hunching, looking panicked for a moment. 

“Let him down, Thor. You’ll break his arm.”

Thor was beaming, releasing Loki and slapping him on the shoulder. “Father is awake—he is coming too.” He sat down next to Loki. “Mother was right, you know. She knew you’d come back.”

“I…brought the Casket of Ancient Winters from Jotunheim. I thought this would be a safe place for it.”

Thor smiled. “Oh—well, yes, it will be. We’ll tell Father.”

“Perhaps you’ll stay for a visit then,” Frigga said, pushing Loki’s mug to him. “Go on, try some.”

Loki looked at the mug. “….perhaps I will.”

 

Bucky Barnes was still in Asgard. Loki was surprised to still see him there. The next morning, after breakfast, he saw Polerion in the training yard alone. He could not seem to help but go down. 

“Loki!” Bucky said, smiling. “You came back. Just in time for the Solstice, like you said.”

Loki nodded. “Polerion…you look well.”

Bucky nodded. “You do too.” He raised his spear. “Remember when I taught you this?”

Loki looked at it and then at him. “I do. Do you remember everything?”

“No…not everything. Some things are still foggy. But I get more back every day. Not always good,” he allowed, looking down at the weapon. “But at least it’s something.”

“I’m sure the Captain helps.”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, Steve. He’s…ha…I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy more excited. He has no subtlety. He even asked about us—I mean, you and me. If we were ever. You know.”

Loki started. “Wh—really?”

“Ha, yeah. Guess he wanted to make sure. Not jealous or anything—just thought we were close or something.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“Well,” Bucky shrugged. “I was getting my mind wiped all the time. I actually don’t remember.” He raised his eyebrows. “Did we ever?”

Loki shifted uncomfortably. “Not how you and the Captain are—as you said, you were always being wiped. But when I became of age, you _were_ the one who taught me. About. Well. That. It’s not as though Frost Giants were lining up.”

“Damn,” Bucky said. “I am _awesome_.”

“Well, to be fair, it was rather methodical.”

That made Bucky laugh harder. “No romantics, eh?”

Loki couldn’t seem to help but smile. “Not at all. Thankfully—I’m not really the romantic type.” Though Polerion had been kind—but he didn’t want to get too deep into that discussion. 

“You won’t know what to do with yourself then—dark hair is really rare in Asgard. They like it here.” 

“I believe I’ll wait—after all, I’m just visiting.”

“Well, maybe you’ll visit for a while then. Just be careful or Thor will try to set you up with his friends or something.”

Loki chuckled. 

“Loki.” Steve came out to them. “I didn’t know you’d come back. How are you?”

“Well enough.” He looked at Bucky. “We will practice some time but for now—I’ll leave you to it.” 

Bucky nodded and Loki turned to go back inside.

Steve looked between them. “Everything all right?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. Glad he came back.”

 

In the Great Hall, Clint was playing a some kind of stringed instrument, singing with a group of kitchen girls and stable hands. Natasha and Bruce were sitting together. Stark was sitting nearby, trying to catch the attention of the Head of Staff—a blond woman called Pepper—without _looking_ like he was trying to catch her attention.

The rest of the castle was bustling in preparation for the Winter Solstice. Lords and ladies of all the realms would converge in Asgard to celebrate. 

Loki chose to stay for it and his mother had him made an extraordinary new robe in silver. He felt uncomfortable wearing such finery but she patted his hand and assured him that he looked so handsome. They even had a crown made for him. He looked at that even more uncertainly. But Thor clapped him on the shoulder eagerly. 

He had to go out on the balcony to get it, in front of the whole city…to be introduced to them as their prince. He stood stock-still, rooted to the spot beside Thor behind the curtains. 

“I…don’t…ah…”

Frigga linked her arm in his. “Come along. They won’t bite. I promise.” 

Thor held up the curtain and Frigga stepped forward, Loki forced to keep in step with her. Her magic touched his own, easing his anxiety. She walked him out onto the balcony and led him right to Odin. He crowned him and everything, in front of everyone. And then Thor eased the moment by running out and clapping him on the shoulder and swinging his hammer. 

Later, they would go back inside to greet guests. Master Erik Selvig was head of the Asgard-Midgard Science and Magic Guild. And he brought his protégé, a young woman called Jane Foster that Thor found himself smitten with. 

The head of Frigga’s Queensguard, Lady Sif, seemed to pick out Loki immediately as she was the only other Asgardian present with dark hair.

Natasha made Bruce dance with her and more besides. Steve and Bucky arrived a little later, hair tellingly mussed and red-faced. 

At midnight, Loki went out to the balcony. The moon was high and beautiful above them. 

Odin touched Frigga’s hand. “Do you think he’ll stay?” He nodded towards Loki.

She nodded. “I think he’ll visit for some time.”


End file.
